for Nana*
they are of mine
but life and love are powers
with out equal,
bolder than blood,
she inhales their joy of life
and grows younger
and I watch in
ataraxic, robust tranquility,
recording miracles
children making someone younger
though not from her body born,
far better,
from her soul,
gifted and given
look closer
see the transfusion
they are not adopted
but adapted
a rhapsody of gleeful shouts,
hula-hoops rolling,
hopscotch hopping
are integrated as
minor universes of the moment
their inarticulate delighted screams are
stars and comets,
newly born
to populate,
the heavens of this very instant
the soon-to-set but
not-quite-yet
sun
wraps them all in
shimmering glistens of
nature's protective custody
and yet
it's warming heat,
cannot compete,
cannot compare,
with the warmth
of life and love
being created before our eyes,
new soul cells,
all hers
Sept. 5, 2015