she graduates now
my baby girl, all grown up
in this Red Rock Land
from prom to vaccine
in a short eight-hour night
(let science save us)
there's no heartbreak here
just my girl, eighteen years old,
ready to face them
sneakers underneath
(pandemic proms are outdoors,
under tents, in grass)
she's taller, braver.
in her silver floor-length gown,
she masters the night
and aren't we a crowd?
this master-mix of humans,
standing on these rocks?
unsinkable us
right below the Molly Brown
(ready to swim. Win.)
graduating girl
ready to face the world
one ray at a time
vaccines could save us
(yet not from the ignorance
spread without needles)
self-portrait art show
for my two youngest daughters
sunflower, glass shine
first day of first job
(the best COVID milestone)
let us shed this slump
blooming badminton
(a few moments of teen peace
before bickering)
the blooms of today
will disappear tomorrow
and it hurts. it hurts.
a birthday ski day
followed by badminton, cake
and these perfect blooms
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