You, with the halo, mind your rings
for they once lived in trees. Before they
were christened into a baby pen,
chiseled from the inside of an oak. Are
the stars below, above or around?
Nearness clarifies the turquoise, the navy,
the subtle blue. On the branches,
gold wraps on each.

Glow from the nearest star
tells us we are too alone. We are
with conviction that if we place our child
in that pen, their first cry is to be free.
So, someday in their curious mind,
they could look up a tree
and dare count infinity.