from the fragmentation
to the dissolving
light emerges
I notice
the little bud shooting out
but it is winter my love
the tiny infant wrapped up tightly
oh it's good to be a father
the opening in the circle
world streaming in
her sleeping face
heart racing
the robin on the wooden arch
still-life in a milli-second
her hands - so slim and so pure
yearning for her touch
kindness and then cruelty
turning - in moments of despair
feeling protective
of her vulnerability
and then my vulnerable self laid bare
catching my breath
hole opening
and being caught
by the other
by humanity
by our shared story
our vulnerability
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