Ella
(one day
old)
Beyond your
still waking face,
soft down,
bones yet to harden
to this
reality, it’s your fingers
that
fascinate: so mature already
as if
everything they are to touch
is already
imprinted in fine folds.
Hopefully
more play than work
and even
better that you find
play in work
also. For now
they grasp
at dreams of feeling,
testing the
air for possibilities
yet to be
given shape.
I love your first and third sentence. To me, it seems the concept of work and play in the middle sentence is out of place and too concrete. The marvel of a sentient being on it's first day observing the world is spectacularly described in those two sentences.
ReplyDeleteHi Benny. Many thanks for your response. The poem was a very immediate response to an event. I'd been reading about eastern/buddhist views on work and play being part of the same whole - so I guess that got into the poem somehow.
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