“See the wind.” We essay to show our daughter the wind.
She extends her wings. My wife’s hair flares up and flails.
The leaves on this Women’s Day are the leaves,
and the trees, the trees. Wind wound around us
makes us a singular apparition. Our daughter
breezes past us, circling us and through us,
and she keeps asking if we can see her.
She means if we can feel her. Yes, we do.
We breathe her womanhood, feel alive with it.
Illustration Nick Victor