Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Beauty Tree

When my first son was born, I began to flood with poetry. I think it is very healing for survivors.

Beauty Tree

The window holds the setting sun,

Orange marmalade burning through cold sky.

I watch my son cradled to sleep,

Vanilla face blooming into slumber.

Father's arms holding him tight as an orchid bud.

Ra bestows his ancient illumination upon

Our little prince, tiny sage, master shaman.

Sarah Elise Stauffer, 2004

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

your love for your children goes beyond all bounds, i can literally feel it from here!