Your lovely tendrils, delicate as squid,
that twirl in many-faceted display
as light through broken glass most likely did
when midwives shrieking brought you to first day.
For out you popped--quite speedily, we thought--
and spectacles etched arcs both left and right,
glass scattering in shards, as suckers sought
to lunch of air, and eyes, and luscious light--
a babe unusual, a babe most odd
but no less loved for lack of jaw or pate.
We pondered: Name her Dahlia, or Pod?
Our hearts went out to every leg (all eight).
        Your twirling tendrils, sifting shards, at ease
        Invite these ships to port, in raging seas.