December 14, 2012

A new life has entered the world and our family, Claire Elayne, born to the daughter of my sister and her husband and joining their son, Fletcher.  We are glad to welcome her, and relieved that things went well and everyone is safe and happy, though I suspect everyone is tired even with all that joy!  There can be nothing in the world so wondrous as a new baby, nothing as amazing, or if truth be known as frightening either.  It takes a while to settle down and realize that they are not as fragile as they look, though I suspect that being a nurse, Winonah has some idea about that, and Claire having an older brother to break the parents in will probably enjoy a little more relaxed attitude.  Your first baby is more frightening than any successive one, as you find out they are . . . what is that truck commercial phrase . . . they are built tough!  At least tougher than they appear!

And so this morning, a poem for a new life, for a daughter . . .

Tempo

In the first month I think
it’s a drop in a spider web’s
necklace of dew
 
at the second a hazel-nut; after,
a slim Black-eyed Susan demurely folded
asleep on a cloudy day
 
then a bush–baby silent as sap
in a jacaranda tree, but blinking
with mischief
 
at five months it’s an almost-caught
flounder flapping back
to the glorious water
 
six, it’s a song
with a chorus of basses: seven, five grapefruit
in a mesh bag that bounces on the hip
on a hot morning down at the shops
 
a water melon next – green oval
of pink flesh and black seeds, ripe
waiting to be split by the knife
 
nine months it goes faster, it’s a bicycle
pedalling for life over paddocks
of sun
no, a money-box filled with silver half-crowns
a sunflower following the clock
with its wide-open grin
a storm in the mountains, spinning rocks
down to the beech trees
three hundred feet below
- old outrageous Queen Bess’s best dress
starched ruff and opulent tent of a skirt
packed with ruffles and lace
no no, I’ve remembered, it’s a map
of intricate distinctions
 
purples for high ground burnt umber
for foothills green for the plains
and the staggering blue
of the ocean beyond
waiting and waiting and
aching
with waiting
 
no more alternatives!  Suddenly now
you can see my small bag of eternity
pattern of power
my ace my adventure
my sweet-smelling atom
my planet, my grain of miraculous dust
my green leaf, my feather
my lily my lark
look at her, angels –
this is my daughter.

Lauris Edmond

Ah the waiting through all the invisible growing, then the not so invisible growing where you feel you've swallowed the entire world.  And then . . . they arrive, every bit of that . . . small bag of eternity!  I love the idea of . . .  my ace, my adventure, my planet as we do so revolve around them in their lovely gravity of spirit!  That a baby is all that is fresh and new and joyful, flower, bird, green leaf, the essence of the natural world, and the we want even the angels to notice and take care of her, to watch over her, and be kind to her. 

So today our prayers and hopes have been answered by the arrival of Claire, who is already loved by us all, and who comes at a season where the whole world is engaged in a conspiracy of love, as the quote by Hamilton Mabie suggests.  Her family, all of us, are ready to enjoy her, take care of her, teach and protect her, what else is love?  We are grateful beyond words for her arrival in the safe haven of her parent's arms, to say nothing of all the holding the grandparents will be doing, and the generous spirit of fun and sharing from her older brother!  Now that she has "busted out" I am sure he will take care of her as well!