Saturday, January 18, 2014


     She weaves a path of destruction, debris in her wake.  
Like an awkward creation of Dr. Frankenstein,
halting, disjointed, yet so stealthy in her stepping. 
 We watch, amazed that she no longer crawls.  
She has moved into toddlerhood with grace, and disaster, 
following the dog in unsteady circles around the house.

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