Waiting for Lucy (To Finn at the End of Winter)

I am often astonished by how beautiful, unexpected gifts can arrive while you wait, and when you least expect them.  Especially when your wonderful, charming father-in-law is renowned Irish poet, Eamon Grennan.  As I count down the minutes until Lucy’s arrival (no, not here yet, but soon!), trying to remain distracted, this poem / gem / love-letter-to-grandson arrived via Outlook of all things.  And so I sit sobbing.  (The happy kind of tears.)

Waiting for Lucy

(To Finn at the End of Winter)

Dear Finn, I know it must be hard to imagine

that from under these leaf-shrouded shreds

and patches of impoverished grass will come

a single snowdrop, never mind a daffodil or

golden crocus.  But in time it will (imagine!)

happen, just as even a prince of a lad like you

will grow up in time (it has to happen!) and

have to share his throne and princely crown

with one who’s travelling towards the nest

your Mom and Dad have been for ages

preparing for her–so she’ll have, your sister (yes!

that’s who!) will have a place to rest herself.

 

And isn’t that how you rested when you too

came to them in this same season when the

first green shoots had hardly peeped out over

all the dead leaves, the muddy grass as famished

as what’s under all our feet this minute

(yours too, can you feel it?), but which will

and you know it will, be soon a space you’ll

run and run in, and run across a green world

of grass that’s made a comeback just for you

because you’re TWO, and soon big enough,

Lord save us, to help a sister sit up so she can

see the realm you plan, being royal, to share

with her, and give her, royally, the run of it.

 

And surely–take our word for it–she’ll look

around and about at it and she’ll see it’s good,

all colours as it is, and how still it is, as the sea

can sometimes be when we stop and look at it

and see it is all light, the steady tide come in

just at its turn, when change happens, as change

comes to your world that’s widening as you take

each quick minute of it in so you grow and grow

(you will! you do!) into exactly who you’ll be:

big brother to the little one who’ll soon be here,

and over her you’ll keep good watch, the two

of you at home together here, and us watching.

 

Well, that’s enough serious words for any young lad,

so I’ll sign off here, with love and a hug,

- Grandad

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