Eclipse

From the other room, my daughter’s laughter
has the cadence of a hymn, the syntax
of some spell. It makes sense. I’m sure
she still dreams of the un-world, which is
still so near for her. In the cereal
aisle, when she holds my hand, I can feel
a hundred futures thrumming through
the ley lines in her palm. She’ll look up
at me then, with a box of Cheerios
under one arm, while the irises of her eyes
(twin moons over standing stones)
eclipse mine.

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Image Credit: Abstract painting of solar eclipse (Ben Will) with Cheerios background (pxhere.com)