The playing cards fall one by one,
each turning card a single breath:
an Ace of Spades, the card of death
lurks in the deck. A coin is spun
and while it spins, life hastens on:
our fortune hangs on heads or tails.
Death cuts us down but life prevails:
our genes alive in daughter, son.
So breath moves forward, like a breeze,
through autumn, winter, into spring:
a snow bird’s feathers on a wing
uplifted over endless seas.