Welcome back to the Daily Poem here on the Close Reeds Podcast Network.

I'm David Curran.

Today's poem is by Rina Espayat.

I read one of her poems recently, and I had to return to her work and share something with you

because I was able to get my hands on her newest collection.

I believe it came out in 2018.

It's called And After All from Abelmew's Press.

As I mentioned previously, she has published 10 full-length books and three chapbooks,

comprising poetry, essays, and short stories in both English and her native Spanish,

and translations from and into both languages.

She has won the T.S. Eliot Prize in Poetry, the Richard Wilbur Award, the Howard Nemerov Prize,

the May Sarton Award, the Robert Frost Tree at My Window Prize for translation,

several honors from the New England Poetry Club, the Poetry Society of America,

the Ministry of Culture of the Dominican Republic, and a lifetime achievement award from Salem State College. So, needless to say,

she is absolutely a poet worth paying attention to. The poem that I'm going to read today is actually

the first one from her collection and after all, and it is called links. This is how it goes.

In this lost moment that the lens once caught, my son turns, bending slightly toward his son,

as if to hear more clearly what is not spoken in words at all.

Look how each one, the quiet man in blue and the small boy in his red shirt, attentive

and aware, is equally at rest. Held by the joy of one another's presence, how the air

between them shines with it, as with a glow more lasting than mere day. The child has grown

tall as his father now, who years ago outgrew his father, who outgrew

...