15 October 2007 | Vol. 7, No. 3

One Season Arrives

by KAREN NEUBERG

Baby paces my heart significantly closer

to the clock.

Morning light watches her grow.

Each season, she slips

out of her bed and onto the wooden floor

with different determination.

I catch it all in my arms until they overflow

while morning keeps

returning.

Light, seasons, clocks

and my daughter’s feet—more: her smiles,

her busy mind, her body, her face—all held.

Dizzying. I could only look it

straight in the eye

and continue.

Gradually, one season arrives

that marks her time

to leave. As simple as that.

I press my hands against an invisible wall.

On the other side, flashes of her—there—six again,

and twelve, twenty-one, eight, two, seventeen      her!

pulling all her faces in one face.