When You Were Born

I think of daisies.

 

Summer heat filled the day

like a cup of lemonade

left on the windowsill.

 

Water droplets perched on the grass

like glass pearls winking in the sunlight.

 

I pointed the water hose at the sky,

pressed my thumb to the aqueous stream

to create a palm tree of cascading rain.

 

The rod iron door rasped open,

announcing the presence of Abuelita.

 

“Mijas! Horita tienen otra hermana!”

 

and we danced in our sun shower.

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