For A Dear Friend’s New Baby
He just doesn’t look like an angel to me.The newly born emerges in innocence. A new life’s journey begins soon. But as I gaze upon him I see not an angel. I see a prune. The countenance is a shriveled, purple, wrinkly mass. The pate is itself crowned with all manner of irregular ridges and bumps. And I see neither heavenly nor angelic forms when the child spews forth his fecal lumps. Others stare and proclaim that he has his Mother’s eyes as they dote and fawn i...