the quilt, or the winds

Rachel on a Cusp

life is change

as “what isn’t” becomes “what is,

genesis miracles around us all the time,

I can love what was and hope to love what will be,

all the while hoping to hold the sand of now

as it slips through my fingers,

our oldest grandchild is 9 

and on a cusp that is stark in contrast:

drawn to both the embracing warmth of the quilt of childhood

and the bracing heady vigor of the winds of knowing,

she loves the uncomplicated pleasures of play, of laughing,

of figuring out simple puzzles,

of enjoying the uncomplicated pleasures of her life,

while, at the same time, she hungers to learn,

to know what adults are talking about,

to read voraciously, even if the topics in the books

are not yet appropriate for her,

I tease her as she watches tv that the woman on screen

doesn’t look much like Dora the Explorer,

then I add, “Oh, you’re not 3 any more, are you?”

to which she replies, “Unfortunately, no. . .”

by Henry H. Walker

March 29, ’14