Seven-thirty A.M.
The sun clock rises.
Rays diving down
through the dust-covered blinds
on top of the milk-new skin
of the next generation born.
Eyes wide open,
recently sealed shut,
looks upon the creator,
the Father of life.
A crack at the edge of the cheek.
A tilt of the chin.
Recognition settles into
the burgeoning mind.
And in the mind of the
Father—
The knowing.
That the sky out there
where the sun awakens
is only the beginning.
And the grinning child
shakes her electric body
with the intense need for
love.
Igniting the fear in the
man’s heart
that one day the grin
might turn to stone,
after the sun sets
and the moon forever
whispers His name.