One year ago yesterday, my daughter, M, was born. This year seems like an eternity, and like a momentary dream. The longest shortest time, indeed, this last cycle around the sun.
I imagine that the coming 17 years—the time that will elapse before she likely leaves our immediate care—will pass equally quickly and slowly.
Nothing speaks of time more eloquently than music, so I will mark this occasion by finally writing down one of the songs I have been slowly composing in the manner of lullabies, sung at dusk and in the witching hours when M wakes in need of lulling back to sleep. In these precious moments, I feel time stretches out infinitely, and am acutely aware of how fleeting this period is, how short of a time in which I can cradle and rock my baby in my arms.
The day he goes
on soft and silent feet
he leaves behind
the scent of daydreams sweet
The night she comes
on swift and silent wings
with her she brings
rumors of sweet night dreams
You and I
traverse earth and sky
You and I, my dear
are here dreaming near
You and I, my love
lie between below and above
I imagine that the coming 17 years—the time that will elapse before she likely leaves our immediate care—will pass equally quickly and slowly.
Nothing speaks of time more eloquently than music, so I will mark this occasion by finally writing down one of the songs I have been slowly composing in the manner of lullabies, sung at dusk and in the witching hours when M wakes in need of lulling back to sleep. In these precious moments, I feel time stretches out infinitely, and am acutely aware of how fleeting this period is, how short of a time in which I can cradle and rock my baby in my arms.
The day he goes
on soft and silent feet
he leaves behind
the scent of daydreams sweet
The night she comes
on swift and silent wings
with her she brings
rumors of sweet night dreams
You and I
traverse earth and sky
You and I, my dear
are here dreaming near
You and I, my love
lie between below and above
