I cradle the child in the water,
soft limbs, green bones,
her head on my shoulder.
Stretching her flat, I whisper:
Head back, belly up, arms out.
It will hold you.
I keep a hand tucked
into the small of her back
as she tests the truth of my words,
the strength of this liquid she drinks,
splashes through,
sprinkles on flowers,
to have faith that it can lift
every ounce of her up
to the sky like an offering.
Slowly I pull my hand away.
Her eyes widen
in wonder.
Image: Reese learning to float by Donnie Ray Jones on Flickr via a Creative Commons License.
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