Below the poplar trees, br below the intricate swaying br sprays of mist, our child br not yet one year br walks haltingly br with you now, her br large eyes: live mirrors br of the leaves veined light. br But it's you that I watch br walking with her there br beside the stand of poplars, br among the rhythms of the shadows br of bamboo, the bruised portals br of the closing leaves, you, br a branch the storms br could not tear.