Notes on a baby’s first visit to a pond

Nestled and tucked         
in her father’s rocking arms,
she opened her eyes
after a dreamy siesta.
Her wonder-filled senses
soaked
in the sudden burst of colors.
 
She blinked
at the streaks of sunlight
dancing on the tiny ripples,
her cherubic fingers
tried to grasp
the flight of damselflies,
she tasted
the fresh bloom
of water lilies and marsh marigolds.
She leaned forward
and caught glimpses of:
egrets
nesting in the reeds,
wild geese
taking off into the clear blue skies,
grayish-brown toads
diving into the warm waters.
 
Startled
at the barks
of their family dog
chasing after some wagtails,
she let out a milky burp.
 
That summer afternoon,
the memory
was etched
in the deepest layers
of her subconscious
like an impressionist painting,
only to come knocking at her door
years later,
in a cold, lonely, candle-lit space
of her dorm room,
when she nursed
her first heartbreak.