LIGHT IN THE FIELD
You can see our
mutual cornflower locks
across the field. When she ran
before I could braid it,
I look to you
as you watch
our daughter’s hair
fly high, & I’m relieved
you can see it: her hair
turning wide like a sail
against the great blue sky,
the green hill dotted
with flowers &
strawberry clusters. As she moves
along, she runs
carelessly
& touches anything
with her small hands, her strands
an extension
of the twining field, I try
to let go of feelings
of missed opportunities,
too little time writing
at the table. I hold
my breath as I focus
on this moment:
how her manners and love floor me—
how they flash in the light—
