As a child my hair was ruler-straight.
I saw the curly-headed ones as blessed,
some special stock made them fancier,
their tops enhanced with twirls
and curls, a crown of fortune
enfolded them.  Somehow they were
God’s beloved, beings with halos
of favor.

And now, miraculously, late
in life, from my own top,
these twirling tresses, curving
and curling enveloping my skull
with a blessing—adornment
to make royalty weep.

My inner child stunned
and unbelieving, I touch
my hair shyly, stroke it
just to be sure it’s true.
I’ve gone from plain Jane
to runway model.