Birth Day


Birth day

The last time

No sky that day just fog dense and damp

And the bite of coming winter in the air.

Shaking out the children’s winter coats

My waters breaking

And you, my little salmon, beating back upstream

Not yet ready, clinging to your due of paradise.

Two days they urged you to leave and you would not.

In the end they gave you little choice.

With no roar of rage, a sigh of regret only

You left your dark watery cave

And salmon leapt into my arms

Your face as bright as any sun.