by Cecil Morris

If I close my eyes, I can still see
our daughter, 6 and rain-soaked
in her mother’s too-big red coat,
sleeves rolled up, plaid lining revealed
by our girl’s every move, her race
and stomp, her laughter wild delight
at gutter flood and puddle splash,
her white boots spraying water wide.
Translucent fans and arcing drops
in liquid arrows fly from her,
our little Artemis, her hair
in ringlets dripping around her face,
and she screams at this transgression,
this breaking of regular rules,
this daring romp I encourage
with wink and smile and taunt: Jump here!
And here! And kick! Forbidden play
in downpour at the slick street’s edge.

Cecil Morris’s first book At Work in the Garden of Possibilities (Main Street Rag, 2025) collected his poems about teaching and students. His next Daughter Lost and Found and Lost (Kelsay Books, 2027) collects poems about a daughter growing up, overcoming addiction, and confronting metastatic breast cancer.