Equinox

Holding you, four weeks old, in the rocking chair in your brothers' room, watching out the window at leaves sinking to the ground, one by one by one. Clear blue sky, Saturday morning, the first day of fall. Your brothers playing in the backyard, their young voices drifting, muted, into the house.  I recall the vision we had of a little girl at our table of boys. And here you are, falling slowly asleep in my arms.