My Little Bird
a poem for Zoe Joy
Zoe Joy wakes with the birds
and raises her voice like they do,
even before the sun shows itself.
Joyful chattering,
contented squeaks,
new plans, ideas, thoughts.
She has so many words for
being two.
A gentle spirit, ever agreeable,
happy to be here.
“Okay Mommy!” she says to
any suggestion.
Going for a walk is a brilliant plan,
and going to the store? Also brilliant.
She echoes affirmation
like the moon reflects sunlight.
Every time I tell her how
marvelous she is, she replies
in an instant, almost before
the words have flown out
of my mouth:
“I love you too, Mommy!”
“You are special too, Mommy.”
“You are brave too, Mommy!”
Each circumstance she meets,
she finds something to adore.
“Oh I love that!” she says,
discovering a new food for
the first time
or having the same food for
the millionth time.
Her delight is the same,
reliable as the seasons,
as beautiful as birdsong
outside my window at 6 a.m.
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