from the sixth year
can be heard the knell
grows the shadow of fear
signs show up telltale.

dimmer grows eye light
lost is silken gleam
flat grows appetite
time gone is a dream.

elements now hurt more
so the endless fight
the warmth of indoor
lures with invite.

too far is next summer
in this death harsh cold
a memory's small splinter
could not be seven year old.

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