There in the Spirit

There in the spirit walks my daughter, she
unconscious as that her hair is brown,
what atmosphere she cleaves. Her eyes
are on her play, no more, and more
would be much less. Her understanding
here surpasses mine: she and life
are so in love
they know and move together,
near as may be one without
a thought of separation.
Let them not observe me standing here,
dull-witted giant, dimly grasping,
fondly hoping, and earnestly trying to believe.

October 16 2009