Poised

I have this rather poetic notion that with each new being I see entering the world, I'll fold a paper crane. Each one strung below the next in long lines of memories and awe. I've never seen anything being born. My first placement begins in exactly two hours. So there sits on my bedroom floor a delicate piece of green, gold-flecked Japanese paper (a gift from the other participant in the only birth I've been a part of). Green for new growing. Gold for everything special and rare and tremendous. Poised. Waiting to be creased and bent and folded into wings.