Somewhere in the middle of a song

we danced to on advice on my friends,

she pulled closer.

Let the rivers run along her fingertips—

as gusts of rain smacked the windows, warning change.

Her opal eyes, unafraid.

I pinned and measured them for the first time.

And what I found there

as she poured herself in:

Spring waters at the floor of a winter pool. [KF2]

In my heart, I said yes.

As if remembering my own name.

The world liquefied. All night,

[KF3] I felt Your gift in such proportions.

Recalled how at birth, You blessed her name.

Let Your eyes drift,

giving thought to character, to songs ahead—

rhymes on an infant’s ancient memory.

Use My hands.

“Shape a breeze with them,” You said to me.

"Stop warring where there is no war.

Love what I have named for you:

Prasada."

The returned gift.

What the blue world, enraptured,

handed me today.