I.
In a single snowflake
I see the child cry in the womb
its oval eyes
praying for light.

II.
Tracks in fresh snow
turn on themselves:
the Algonquin child
dazed, lost a moment
back from her long sleep
forest beyond the pond
under a blue-flamed spruce.

III.
So shy the azalea bud
in spring snow
blushes
color
of the child.

IV.
Spring raking,
in the prongs
a lock of hair:
the child
sleeping
in the flower bed.

V.
Child,
such a bloom this spring!
Fragrance of Scotch broom
here, everywhere,
our Lord’s sweet breath.

In the corner of the room
your garden clothes:
ash, sassafras
pinesap
Scotch broom.

VI.
Listen:
the Algonquin child
braids thatch on our roof,
or is rain falling – or both?