Fathers and daughters turn circles holding hands
and paint each other's faces with favorite colors.
The words spoken as the evening moves into night
gently rest upon the air and need not go further
towards demands for the future or place expectations
that flinch in the face of possibilities. Peace rests
between the generations after having shared
the experience of the weekend together. Small miracles
have not been overlooked. All attachments honored.
Those who stumble walk again with the help
of every presence. No talk of salvation arises
as the fathers write daughters a letter. Each one
inscribed with the words, "I am the luckiest Daddy
in the world to have you as a daughter."
A Thread You Follow 