To my daughter, first, as each day new words emerge
from that holy little mouth
half formed and persistent pieces of language.
In the moment before I recognize them
when in my denseness all I hear is babble,
they are stars falling, blossoms opening,
the horizon brightening before sunrise.
And then I “hear” her and we both lift from the ground.
Thanks also to you,
for sharing this space with me,
and for this conversation
about what it means to live well.