Braided

These mornings of her ribbons
and my origami fingers
weaving fairy wonders
of God's own silk

mimic so the braid in hand:
they accrue yet dwindle down – such
a cruel equation,
except for this:

the lush distraction of its
golden geometry – behold
the heirloomed loveliness
of three-in-one.

over, through, gather, breathe

The matriarchal trademark
of daughter-whim decreed – today:
“French, please – high but loose” –
I make it so.

pull, smoothe, gather, breathe

Wonder of my womb, her head --
silk and velvet set with sapphires --
waltzes in ancient steps;
I gently lead.

push, stroke, love, breathe

Entwined, entranced, we slip beneath
quotidian thought, where rustles
afresh our natal waltz--
God weaving her.

Silence, hush! – a sacred flash
now throbs the cord we scarcely knew,
then braided between us
by holy hand.

by Lynn Bruce