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JENNIFER MAIDENThe Winter Babyfor my daughter Katharine Margot TooheySo, babies are primal: Moore-sculpted rock- rock from a flood as sleek as stone -that has no more, no less than body warmth,the warmth of the dusk sun.Her strengthis absent-minded and wordlessly good,a sleepsong sung in the keyof a satisfied short groan.Her laughis as wide and wise as winter.There is nothing filmynor flimsy about her.She feeds as firmlyas the heart mills blood,her needs as fair as Milton's Godand her eyes like night on water.WESTERLY, No.2, JUNE, 1989 75
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