in my hands

the world
in my hands

my daughter
half way through the year
to three

climbs up
into my lap

finds
in my two dirty hands
not the garden I've been digging
or the trees I have been keeping to a size
all my own

she takes the fingers
starts them in a conversation

then walks hers
through the valleys
and rivers
darkened with sediment
from my yard work

they are full
of roads leading places

of so much yet to be
is her moment

valleys, mountains, bumps and climbs

the world
in
my hands

in
my arms
for awhile
while she'll let me join in