She looked in person so much smaller than in the pictures
Sent from the hospital all red faced and with features
Scrunched up from the questionably happy trauma
She struck us, all seven pounds eight ounces of her
As sausages quite recently knitted together, such a little thing
The roseate arms sticking out of her white swaddling
All awkward, frustrated, nothing any longer at her command
And we wanted to help of course and offer a token
Of reassurance — though even the air is broken –
As if to say, Don’t be disappointed where you’ve landed
It’s still fairly beautiful here, this strange place
We wanted to say, That’s your funny nose
And it’s roughly in the middle of your face
We wanted to make simple, silly observations, whatever arose
That might bring her, and us, some reassurance
Such as outside of the hall there you see that wavy thing
It’s called a tree, with green leaves hanging on branches
As we too are hanging on buffeted back and forth
And, no, you can’t see the wind, the cold Covid north
Wind blowing, but, oh, it’s there all right,
Which is why we could say little of this, or of day or of night
Beholding her in our daughter’s arms in the corridor
Tamping down an impulse to approach, settling only to beam
To say hello and goodbye to our new granddaughter
And now hello again from these miles away
During the required two weeks of quarantine.
We hope we succeeded through our welcoming eyes, that was our task
To communicate love through the blue and white surgical mask.