The Fall Came Sudden and Late

      I had ceased to hope for color.
      Then it came, like resurrection.

Felicity turned two and started speaking
in full sentences. They came as sudden and early
as the fall came sudden and late, and with the same
shocking, sudden joy, like resurrection.

      The hillside was dying all along,
      but it’s just now become a torrent of brilliants and brights, defying
      the two-toned decorum we feel is fit for hospitals (as if
      the frozen earth is not the end, but resurrection).

Felicity hugs me and I squeeze her into laughter.
“More,” she yells—and after I correct her—“Can we
do again, please?” And so again (then four more times),
a too-tight hug and laughter.

      I had ceased to hope for color.
      Then it came, a resurrection.