Oft and steady rhythm of a baby
breathing
her gaze tells you all you need to know,
her footsteps tender in the snow,
the pitter-patter blast of rain upon a window,
considering all we do, and do not, know
we stand hand-in-hand
toe-to-toe
under this beautiful July moon.
 

And now she's our lady in red,
dancing at the party.
Big school beckons in September,
with all its inherited human cruelties,
I do not want anything to hurt her
my lady in red.