first gasp of air
wide-eyed shock, then-
the melancholy wail of a newborn
pierces through the air

and so words tumble out of my pen
confused and scattered, leaves in the autumn wind
like the first steps of a toddler, eager, but
punctuated with falls
yet it comes alive to the uneven beat
of the clumsy dance he pats out with his feet

how featherbrained, how ungraceful!
but he grows up to sit by a bubbling brook
a pensive statue,
while sunlight weaves a pretty pattern
through the wispy fronds of a willow:
a feathery net of gold that kisses his cheeks
and dapples across the gurgling brook
and i hope these words
will grace his ears in melodious harmony
with the sigh of the breeze.