And this is the poem that was on the broadside that
was written, in fact, for my daughter Iva's
wedding a couple of years ago.
So a little epithalamium.
You from the start a child who was
ready to whisk down the slide then jump off the diving board.
Walk home from school alone, or fly to Nice,
unaccompanied minor 7.
Drove through Ohio's snow in a rented truck.
One skittish cat and laptop for company
headed from Tucson to Manhattan and new exigencies of vocation.
Rode through the jasmine dawn on a motorbike.
Someone was being born as a glimmer of day, pearl
to the green, you came to meet her leaving the hills
and your night behind you.
Leap into trust, commitment, companionship.
One more departure.
This time accompanied.
Sometimes a diving board loves an airport, where all the signs
today read arrivals.