Tomorrow,

my girl will learn the weight of balance,

that there is tension in springs

as we push in all we’ve enjoyed,

inhale deep the alpaca wool,

shove in with bubble-wrap

the delicate butterfly you painted

and gasp. 

 

This is what it is like to leave

aunts, uncles, crying grandmas

at the shore. 

Rowing Great Grandpas

it hurts a little more

How Family

can be on two sides of one earth

split soles

favorite sparkly shoes worn down

to the bone. 

 

We set sail in the morn. 

 

In two days, or 18 hours of flight,

plus some lines of delay,

she will rush into the hug of her adoring 

papa

and all will be smoothed. 

All will be right

but

for that little tug,

the breath of ladybugs and stirring of grasshoppers

tuning their legs. 

The missing of all we tried to keep in the bottle. 

 

Tomorrow we will relearn your smell,

will take you in 

honey

will let you pick us up

nuzzle in our ear

walk through a porthole

called our other home,

our real bed

our actual table

the way we keep our cereal

and makeup and sock drawer and everyday hugs

and plums and leafy lettuce tight tight leaves touching leaves

all of us together, fitting ;

and we will say, “how lucky we are

  to have wings.”

 

—-

You get what I’m saying??

 

As an aside, I just can’t get enough of Ordinary Love. Oh, you wonderful wonderful U2, you.

& do they ever age?