Sunday, March 25, 2012


by Gideon Burton

in memory of our first grandchild, Olive Burton,
who came to us, and left us, on March 25, 2012 

The ultrasound technician didn't know
the baby couldn't stay. Her mother, close
to dying, wouldn't last to keep the flow
of growing until safety interposed.
"And that's her arm, and here's her beating heart.
She's healthy, normal, right on track with growth."
We watched my son with tender groaning start
their child-grief, Adam clutching Eve and both
a witness to the miracle, the spike
of seeing such divinity in reach
that in our darkness nothing seems more light,
more fleeting-weighty than a parent's weeks.
     Oh, little Olive, here and gone again;
     we'll dance with you when time at last unbends.


  1. Remarkable. And so utterly impossible to write.

  2. This was absolutely lovely. What a beautiful remembrance.

  3. Very poignant, piercing. Blessings to you and your entire family as you go through this loss.

  4. What a lovely tribute to your first grandchild, Gideon. Sometimes a poem expresses more than ordinary prose. So sorry for your loss, but as you say, you will dance with her "when time unbends."
    God bless you and your beautiful family.

  5. Thanks, all, for the comments. Nice to hear from you, too.

  6. This brought tears. I'm so sorry. My heart is very heavy for you.

  7. Professor Burton! I'm so sorry! Your sonnet is so beautiful and very moving.

  8. It seems like yesterday and years ago at the same time. So strange how somethings are like this. I am grateful for you and your way with words. XO