BABY NASH
This is something I want to remember. Yesterday’s baby
suddenly turned toddler. Chubby fingers curl and unfurl
in unmistakable gesture. Insisting, “Nana, come.”
RED OAKS
The winds can be wild here at our lake. Frigid wail,
enough to make us crazy. Even inside,
chimney flapping and somewhere a gap gives way
to whistle and whine. I am wrapped in some
soft fur. A gift from my sister. Listening. And looking
out all these windows. Once we were
away from home when an oak broke and fell for no
apparent reason. Our son spotted it first and
questioned what had happened. And now I look
and wonder—how many others hold secret cracks
but stand? Red oak leaves hold tight to
branches. You’d think this autumn gale would
be enough to take them. But there they cling while
the whole world rings and dances and my dog and
I enjoy our leisure. Supported by floors lined with
oaks someone cut and my husband dried.
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