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My grandmother wrote lilting verse for me
In Finnish — her exclusive, native tongue —
And marked me with her blessing, giving me
A poet name when I was very young.
She called me Sinisiipi, The Blue Wing,
And bluebirds flew on every birthday card;
With cheerful wishes for my life they'd sing
A legacy from my ancestral bard.
So Blue Wing fluttered round me through the years,
Her meaning hidden yet with deep allure,
Holding my feathered soul to face my fears
And my future, beloved and secure.
Her impulse rouses now with new insight
To try my azure name and lift its flight.
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