Letters for Astrid

Letters for Astrid
Crossroads were not marked,
roads not paved.
Down into a hungry hollow,
down we went,
through green and green.
Down into silence
and what got left here
when glaciers pulled away.
I’d love to see your dark eyes
take it in: moss and fern,
the tall, thin trees,
boulders big as houses
split right through
top to bottom.
You could run around here
all day, chasing chipmunks,
hiding in the cloven rocks,
imagining wood nymphs
and talking bears.
I tried to tell you about it
when your mother called,
how hard to find,
how magical it was.
But you were off
on your own adventure,
asleep on your mother’s chest.
Every few seconds she’d bend
to kiss the top of your head.
Touch is its own enchantment.
You don’t need fairy tales
or forests yet,
or even grandparents.
But when you’re ready,
Astrid Love,
all that, all we who wait,
will be ready for you too.
S. Robbins, August 13, 2020

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