In Praise of My Daughters

raised by a woman of steel
I suppose it was the universe’s
sense of irony that made me
the father of daughters


they are blissfully unaware
of the miracles they are
strong enough to seek
the love they deserve
though they’ve kissed
their share of toads
and have been amphibians
themselves


they elect to transform
perseverance into an art


what lives that have sculpted
for themselves

what joy they bring
to others


both with a flaming sense
of justice, they protect
the ones they love
with the ferocity of mountain
lionesses


but as quick they are
with compassion
for the fallen—both
friend and foe

Mom, are you seeing this
I bet you’re pleased
where your apples
have fallen


forgive me reader
for a moment
if a slip back against
my chair and allow
pride to pour down
on me like a much needed rain