for my future daughter

So let her be powerful,
from bedrock to bend,
a towering cascade
fit to smooth stone.
Let her bones rhythm
on the waters of her name,
a home, never the same
each deluge. Mighty,
each rapid. Fierce,
each turn, let her find
her low points and hollows
shivering down that mountain,
let her swallow earth and spit up loam,
shelter the run of life in Spring,
the stillness of the eddies
and sometime frozen rivulets,
the temporary glass cradling dawn.
Let her find an ocean, somewhere,
in which to gain herself
tenfold, a cloud she'd like to kiss
as molecule suspended
and sky-filling, for a time.
I don't ask much
for myself, just a berth
wide enough to enfold
this wooden boat, rainbows
fresh-caught for breakfast,
a forest that won't disappear.
But for her, let me imagine
the endless, everlasting.
A skirt of foam.
Mist for her mantle.
A crown of stars, brighter
once all the lights have dimmed.