Through a New Portal
I can picture her as a preschooler
making her way through our yard
to pick dandelions and bluebells
on Mother’s Day,
and soon I am lifting her
into my arms, but she wiggles away,
and will tolerate it no more.
At ten, we are walking across
the parking lot to the dollar store,
suddenly she pulls her hand free,
giving me a glance
with furrowed eyebrows,
as if she is wondering why
we had ever held hands at all.
Now she refuses bedtime readings,
will even lock her door at times,
and these are bittersweet moments,
but I understand.
She is emerging like a tender leaf,
pushing away her protective red shell,
unfolding, demanding space.
Divinity affirms her,
wills this coming forth,
She has stepped through a new portal,
and feels her way
through the enchanting dawn,
halting with each step
to fan away the mist
with her hands.
She peeks into her new world.
I feel her aura in the roadside collage
of early spring, that blends tender pastels
under the light blue sky of the robin’s egg.
A million dots of pale olive green.
She is sensitive like the pink cherry blossom,
the white star of the dogwood flower,
the mauve magnolia cup of spirit,
spicily fragrant like lavender lilac cones.
A miniature maple, red leaves sunlit.