“take my daughter to work” days

I.
I teach bible to the moms
but it is they who teach me
this time
for they are unbothered
and unrattled
as she bothers
and rattles
and clings
and whines her way
through Paul’s letter.

II.
in my mind
she
is the little matriarch
of all the children born
this summer.
she
has visited them all,
from the five pound girl who
took us by surprise,
to the ten pound girl
with the attentive dog
standing by.
the babies lie there,
predictably, while
she combs the floor for
every last bottle cap,
every gaping exposed outlet.
babyproofing is still
months away;
she
is the advance team.

III.
a parishioner has returned
from a meeting in
Rwanda.
he visited the genocide site
(250,000 in a mass grave)
and needs us all to hear him.
my daughter
greets each person individually,
and we all eat chicken tikka
and spicy pork until
our eyes water,
then he tells his story.
meanwhile my girl
sorts change from my coin purse
quietly, as if she understands.
when we sing a song in closing
she dances.