The First Day

tomorrow morning
we'll wake her gently
feed her a warm breakfast
brush her hair and teeth

we'll take her outside
with cameras and kleenex
at a somewhat nocturnal hour
and walk her to the end of our driveway.

we'll hear it coming for her
the giant yellow machine
puffing dark diesel smoke
pulling loud pneumatic brakes

the steel jaws of the monster
will creak open wide, waiting
she'll break from our grasp
and enter, ever so innocently.

we'll stand there and say
but she was just teething
first steps were on Mothers Day
how can this be?

and what if they don't know
her have-to-pee dance
or that her extra barrette
is in her backpack pocket?

we'll stand at the driveway's edge
as she waves back from the window
we'll watch as her tiny hand
disappears in the morning fog.