Each December dawn
my daughters tread an icy path
across the lawn
to wait for Daddy
who straps on protective helmet,
girds up thick armor-gray jacket,
and mounts high-sprocketed steed.

These damsels atop driveway
huddle in bathrobes and bunny slippers
to watch their Knight on shining 10-speed
pedal off to work.

But before Daddy begins daily journey,
they quickly draw out arrow
from quiverful heart,
notch hand to mouth then,
like a crossbow,
arms release in a forward arc
casting off a kiss.

Each daughter watches
as Daddy catches empassioned arrow
piercing the heart full force,
empowering a soul to keep on course.

(c) 1998 Michael All Rights Reserved - published here with special permission of the author