Linda Leedy Schneider

A Child Sees
the bars of her crib and their shadows,
hears clashing voices from downstairs.
She reaches for the shadows
cast through her ivy-shrouded window,
sees her own hand repeated on the sheet.
She tries to catch a shadow.
Her hand changes everything.
Wind shakes the windows.
Soon the ivy shudders in rain.
The girl’s canvas has gone blank.
She curls down under her blanket
having learned long ago not to cry.