Sunday, July 24, 2005

The growing

Wind skimmed, cold and thin
under grey sky.
We didn't ask you to
but you came too.

We played in the glade
where trees twist and grow,
wringing substance from the empty air.
And you were there.

Night grew, dead sun strew
its embers on the shining sea
and you were there though
unbeknown to me.

Now at last you have cast
your lot and from your deep
and inner world of night
you are begotten and now grow
like green and tender grass

grasping for light.

(c) A McN

An unexpected pregnancy. What a gift she has turned out to be.

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