In that houseyou were conceived. See that room on the second floor to the left? That’s it, that’s the holy place.
Later, your mother and I went for a walk up the mountain, stopping at a clearing.
Chickadees sang to us from the spruce trees, told us your name– the name of a girl.
We vowed to make a home on the spot where the birds foretold your birth.
© Patrick O’Neill 2010. All rights reserved