The first day of summer.
From the surgical arena
I saw a storm in one half of the sky,
sun and blue heaven in the other.
And in this eclipse of serendipity,
the birth of my daughter
on Father’s Day.
Where is the first drop of water
in the first sea that ever was?
Where is the first new moon of night?
Where is the first cry of life
to fill the silence of the world?
Who bore the first name
before the legions that followed?
On this day,
this first Father’s Day of my life,
the first miracle of many
is a blessing of the candles
on a girl’s cake.
Happy Birth, Missy.