• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 03
Image by


My newborn son handed me a piece of the moon.
Dawn mist is parting for the ship's bell to dance off
smiling cliff faces.

Curious eyes rise from the turning tides, all shore-bound,
the aunts are gathering.

Feed me with sea bass and scarlet love apples,
tip of asparagus and tail of the lobster.
Bacchus fill my glass, chocolate coat my dreams.

Come, come closer, my son cries welcome.
Cushion him with rose petals and kind cashmere words.

Orchestras explode, play a symphony for me of my son's
first laughter from those far distant hills.