Letter To My Unborn Child

by Young Dawkins

Someday you will want to know
and I might not be here,
so
this is how you were made.

It was a soft night
near the back of June,
clear, for a change, no rain.

Old women were out
gathering healing herbs,
fennel, dog rose and rhu.

Bonfires burned on all seven hills,
drunken young men
leapt through the flames.

Down in the bogs
the foxfire glowed,
will o' the wisps edged the meadows.

In our bed my wife laughed out loud
at the loving pleasure
of being a woman.

Like any man, I suppose,
I was proud,
and we fell to our sleep both smiling.

You were created
of passion and magic,
in Scotland, on Mid-Summer's Eve.

Here in the North,
that augers you special,
your mother and I believe.

UPDATE:

Whaddya know? I received an e-mail from the author: Thanks Young!

Dear Matthew,

Just a quick email to say thanks so much for posting my poem on your blog. I'm a huge fan of the Writer's Almanac, and it has been the biggest thrill of my poetic life to be featured on there.

It is available as part of a collection called The Lilac Thief - you may be able to get it on Amazon in the US. If not, and you're interested in a copy, drop me a note.

Background to the poem is that I became a first time father last year - at the age of 60 :)

Just back from the Jazzmouth Festival in Portsmouth, NH, where i read with Ray Manzarek, Michael McClure and Robert Pinsky. Also very exciting!

I'm on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/pages/Young-Dawkins/307107005688?ref=ts

Many thanks again for posting it on your blog.

Best wishes,

Young Dawkins