The spirit of a baby
entranced by Spirit,
fighting for first breath,

Feeling the wind —
her greatest teacher.
Sensing the dance

In swinging sycamores,
in flights of bumble bees,
discerning the tenuous smile

Of her dark-eyed mother.
Enlivening a young girl who
adored story, who spilled out

Her own tall tales. On the
first day of first grade, Mrs.
Blair, dressed all in black

With white pearls gleaming
around her neck, reading
first verses of Genesis, to

Amazed children sitting
tailor-style on the floor.
Words spilled over the

Earth, without form, void,
darkness, arising also on
the face of green waters.

Then it was said, with words,
“Let there be light, and there
was light.” So before light,

Even words were in the air,
on the land. And in her youth,
she learned the power of words.

In school, a myriad of ideas
where revelation whirled like
Mr. Clean popping up like

Alice in Wonderland, where
books, illustrations, cuddled
them like newborns. Stories

Fell from the heart of this
woman, inspired by Spirit,
ready — to fly into wild blue

Yonder, finding midnight
lack, lemon, yellow when
she heard “Flight of the

Bumble Bee,” “Moonlight
Sonata,” perceiving
Big Dipper in the night

Sky, spotting multitudes
Of silhouettes of spirals
as she heard “Annabel

Lee.” “To Helen” hearing
waves in the sea. Her world
was created from forms born
in words birthed of Spirit.

She is ever entranced.