For Arya Grace T----- On Her Birthday

Happy no-death men stand triumphant,

a splendour of fates,

barefoot in grasses,

naked and in a fervor of creation,

abyss grandly closed beneath the caravan,

finding the sun's extinct tears solid,

weighting us down no more,

a fever of leisure,

spinning up to the fullest of smiles,

new babies,

new chances, new hope,

the newest of dances.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

this was writting for Susan's new baby, when said baby (hi, Arya, if you ever read this) was only 3 hours old.

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