Below the poplar trees,
below the intricate swaying
sprays of mist, our child
not yet one year
walks haltingly
with you now, her
large eyes: live mirrors
of the leaves veined light.
But it's you that I watch
walking with her there
beside the stand of poplars,
among the rhythms of the shadows
of bamboo, the bruised portals
of the closing leaves, you,
a branch the storms
could not tear.
Doren Robbins
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/after-the-rains-love-poem/
