A Gleam in the Eye
Volume One of The Seasons of Youth

(revised, second edition)

Paperback: 90 pp.
Published: 2009

Price: $15.95

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What mom doesn’t recall the magical seasons surrounding the birth of her baby — the anticipation felt during pregnancy; the pain and pride, on delivering; the joy of watching her child grow? And what dad can forget saying to himself, upon first holding his infant, "I’m really a father now," with all the accompanying awareness of being responsible for another human being? Chronicling the development of his own firstborn, from her conception through age one, Louis Daniel Brodsky provides, for us all — from experienced parents to those who have yet to see that "gleam in the eye" — a window on that glorious time.




Parenthood is something truly magical and unique. A Gleam in the Eye: Volume One of the Seasons of Youth is a collection of poetry from a father through the toughest and most intriguing part of fatherhood — the first few months which lead him to the rough feeling of being responsible for another. An intriguing take of poetry, A Gleam in the Eye will warm the hearts of many parents. "Our Song": How can music/Be so churchly serene/That it makes me kneel/On cold stone floors and weep?/The song I hear/Is my wife and child/Lying together, both asleep./Each breath they share/Releases a sweet note/Scored by me,/Devotedly,/As I tiptoe from our bedroom,/To keep from waking them./All afternoon,/My eyes hymn our melody.

Midwest Book Review


I enjoyed A Gleam in the Eye: Poems for a First Baby and felt I could see not only the child, but all children dreaming and concerned, nurtured and growing.

— Maya Angelou, author of I know Why the Caged Bird Sings

Never has a father celebrated the infancy of a first baby with such lyrical precision, and grave attention, with such delightful humor.

— May Sarton, author of Journal of a Solitude and In Time Like Air





First Insights

Our child enraptures me, with her smiles.
Such smooth, unassuming contortions,
On a face as yet untrained
In deviltry,
Contain no seeds of pain or disillusionment.
Her wide grin is a sign of contentedness,
On recognizing herself and me
In my glinting, eager eyes.
We’re perfect friends,
Accepting each other unconditionally.
One moment are we,
In the sum of two lifetimes.
Timelessly, we rub cheek to cheek,
Like rose petals fluttered by a breeze.
We’ve become not just playmates or acquaintances
But, without vacant smiles anymore,
Father and daughter, blended in embrace,
Who, on this occasion,
Seem to perceive a feature of the other
Both have failed to see before.











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