shadow

A sound pointing

No ball streaks up the green.
Crickets hush their hiccuping.
Sweet rain comes down. Earth calls
blue jays, doves, cardinals
to the grass where they strut and stir.
Snip here and there an earth crawler.
I lift my daughter next to me,
her thighs lean gently on my knee,
and point her to these things.
She marvels at their wings,
then smiling repeats "Bird"
– her first aspiring word.

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