The child has begun shouting
out when she recognizes
a word belongs to an object
she knows as if
her whole being was in service
to the articulation of
the thingness of the world
here—an umbrella
sometimes in picture form
on the side of a block
sometimes a walk
reveals them on porches
withdrawn into a shape
that shelters nothing
from no one no need
at the moment to cover
everything underneath
still she brings them
to our attention
her vocal cords opening
up the skeleton within
until our skin reveals
the circle we were always
going to be born into
on an ordinary stroll
through the woods
beside our home
just within sight
umbrella
umbrella
umbrella
Joshua Keiter 