They stand on the hill top, and she
spreads her arms: "Have you ever
seen such brightness, daddy?"
Such light?
And he is blessed again by her wonder -
at the nodding grasses, their woolly caps,
at the mystery of rabbit tracks -
because she’s forgotten to await his answer,
which, of course, would have been
Yes

Across the lane, the birds come down
from the rowan-trees. Their wings
leave strange traces in the snow,
and he finds himself trying to read them
like a letter he waited to receive,
but knows was never sent.
Fallen berries bead like blood, or lie
beneath the snow in little bruises,
fingerprints left on an arm gripped
too hard. Don't go.
The world is full

of hurts, he'd told her in the fall
when they found the nest, raided
and broken on the ground behind the shed.
She'd looked at him then, bewildered,
and trusting. Her own home
was never whole, and a wish
never made
cannot come to curse the star
that gave it shape, that gave it
breath.