Your Arrival

I thought it would all be decided

when you came.

Your hair the color of your mother’s

my chin and cheeks – poor child –

weight exactly what your granddad

predicted: 7 pounds and 4 ounces,

All the genetic variables fighting

it out in the womb

and the winners announced

the morning of your birth

but you

as I stand over

open your eyes against

their vernix sealed lids

and reveal two blue pools

of complete unpredictability.