Easy enough to love them when they are snuggling
with us and making up songs or stories. Easy to love them
when they are sleeping and still. But deeper the love
that blossoms when they are kick or shout
or recoil from our gentlest touch.
And deeper still the love, love like a pellucid, icy
mountain lake that we choose to jump into and swim
when we learn to forgive them for not forgiving us.
Oh how it takes our breath away, and painful as it is,
we can’t help but think how good it feels, how clear.