Pulse is a privilege. So squeeze your veins with thanks as often as your hours will allow, O infant, clad in overlapping rainbows;
Welcome to our green-blue twirl world which comets frequent in their profuse circuits, You refresh us like lavender oil on a rainy afternoon.
Your mother's womb is a chamber of secret synergies. Springing forth from a union of gracious deity gates, you are like a geyser of ripe, frothy, daybreak dew. Plum blossoms in full bloom envy you and your folks.
You are as kinetic as magnet eggs in birdsong, eagerly yearning for a ball of yarn to weave the waves of your days into a scarf of warm memories.