There is nothing I can write that will be as beautiful or as powerful as the child you have given birth to or loved. Or the tree. Or the bird. The living place.

But, if I am diligent and blessed, perhaps I may craft something that will help to insure the world they find upon arrival is worthy of the gifts and hope they bring.

Instead of their enemy.

For this reason, you are writing with me.

We are writing together.

So if, within my fervent songs, you recognize the strains of senses long and dearly held…

Remember this.