Prelude: For the First Hour

Breathing now, sure-silent on
is the infant in his niche
and the human sum is done

again. New luck is now upon
the household; and a heritage
is handed to him, given and won –

to get to know the rain and sun –
the body’s strength; to take the touch
of pain; the fineness of being known –

now a new companion
is with us, on a certain search –
for all certainty has gone

again. Dark-eyed and small of bone,
speaking in your man-made flesh
an existence of your own –

so you say, in quietest tone,
truth that later on, loud speech
will blur: that living and alone,

self has no comparison.
Tawdry values can attach
no word to your phenomenon.

Now in truth I turn to one
who made you. Dear, we are not ‘rich’ –
but of the Earth, with our new son.