To Bliss and its Disguises
by Clayton Hansen

    My daughter attempts the scaly grey sides
    of the Pecan tree again - little legs
    like pistons without purchase;  
    nothing to push against or grip
    and eventually her arms fail -
    she comes crashing down
    with a smile wreathed in the
    secret knowledge that one day,
    ________________________________one day soon
    she will shout Look at me!
    and I will look up to her -  up at her
                                     see bliss
    dancing intricate patterns
    about her face and trembling limbs,
    my applause like a cascade
    of unsaid wishes, proud exclamations
    that echo and flurry as if
    the wind is speaking
                                     to a bird.






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