Light on the door frame,
easing, breathing
in the bellows of a wind
undecided. A long journey to find us, little one.
In a blink
. Still

wrapped in house and cot and sheets
the child is asleep.

Rain flung careless against window:
handfuls, like grit. And then nothing. And then.
Haphazard, little one, unexpected,
like beauty
. Softer

than silk or wool or fleece
the child is asleep.

Glittering beads cling to glass:
a tiny sun in each
drop.