On a Star Caught in a Tree

On a Star Caught in a Tree

for my daughter

Seated on the front garden seat, the sky

is a middle-aged blackboard of both sign

and cypher - present and past. For you, I

know it's as new as the small sewn line

of cross-stitch, you clutch in your fingers.

Something to be worked upon, added to

and talked about, embellished by a blur

of questions. But I am held by the blue

tapestry of sky where you're pointing

to a star caught in a tree between blind

branches. While you ask me if by morning

it will be able to get out? Inclined

to equivocate but bound to this show

of cosmic irony - only say I hope so.