three girls: jazzy lou

A father says much—
Though it will never be enough—
And, oft in his own way, far more thinks than says
On the importance of his waking
And the great gravity of love.
If there be literal power in what
He should ever-strive to carve from himself
And, of that handmade gift, patiently impart,
It would be that you hold tight
To your precious, daring, contemplative heart.
Nature searches and knows you, dove,
Through and through to the very pulse of truth
And kneels for all that’s just and good in this world:
Upon approaching its roiling edge,
If even your weakest whim but wanted it to,
The sea would calm for your quiet eyes
And gently roll away from you;
Jazzy Lou would be a song
The gulls would sing,
And on unfolded wing you’d be carried on
To where the purest belong;
The angry sun would sting no more,
But warm away the sad day’s salt and ice,
Suffice the kindest smile across hope’s many faces—
Baby, you’re above, beyond, and yet the best reason for
Even the most beautiful places.

—for KJ
© 2017, photograph by J. Horner, Windstrewn and Windstrewn.com, All Rights Reserved

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