My niece has not chosen
the word with which she
will begin her life-long oration.
Tongue-tied in bubble gun
mumbles, she crawls on her
chubby knees through a smattering
of traditional choices, hearing
"mama" and "dada" like
an oscillating fan.
I'm sure that she will choose
"baby" or "brother" an homage
to her older siblings,
but a secret part of me
is holding out for "Hwaet,"
a traditional prologic fanfare
of Old English.
I whisper it in her ear
as she coos and cuddles
in my arms.
When she does say it,
her parents may not
register it as remarkable,
but 11th century warriors
will bid Heorot be silent
as my darling begins
to weave her tale.
1 comment:
my favorite of the new year
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