Goat

A gentle frame,
a beautiful picture,
propped on a sturdy mantle

Is to the gentle nudge,
with a beautiful meaning,
directed straight at you.

The connection not,
in size or weight,
nor look or feel,
but meaning.

The touch of a pussy willow,
standing straight and tall,
to endure hard times and good

Is to the feel of the ears,
soft and whole,
running through your fingers.

The connection not,
in size or weight,
nor look or meaning,
but feel.

The look of nothing,
drawn with air,
a stencil of perfection

Is to the tall and proud posture,
the straight and sturdy legs,
supporting life, forever lived to the fullest.

The connection not,
in feel or weight,
nor look or meaning,
but size.

The size of a fist,
curled to a whole,
to measure the size of our feelings

Is to the jumble of emotions,
rolled into one,
with no hands to measure, but thoughts alone.

The connection not,
in feel or size,
nor look or meaning,
but weight of the heart.

The face of a baby,
round and curious,
admiring the wonders of the world

Is to the eyes of a kid,
staring at me,
with newborn complexity.

A new being for the world.
To become

The beautiful picture,
the touch of a pussy willow,
the stencil of perfection,
the jumble of emotions.
The perfect shadow of her mother.