After she married, D. Alison Watt felt called to motherhood. "It was as if God was saying to me, 'I have a job for you to do. Take care of this child.' Then when our daughter was born, I began to see what a job it was," she writes in the preface to her book of poetry, "Hurricane Dancing: Glimpses of Life With an Autistic Child."

Watt's slim hardcover, published by Jessica Kinglsey Publishers in 2005, is filled with Carol Ruth Fields' enchanting photographs of the daughter at various stages of growth, along with the poignant reflections of the mother — also at various stages of growth.

Watt explains that her poems are "born from intense and sometimes traumatic incidents with our child. Some of the experiences and emotions were too hard to process without working them out on paper and they came out in my native tongue: poetry."

The Massachusetts resident will read her poetry to raise awareness of autism at 6 p.m. Wednesday, Feb. 27, at the Philadelphia Alumni Writers House, Franklin & Marshall College.

"As autism is more and more of an issue for parents, we really feel that Watt's personal experience and encouragement could help those affected by this disorder in our community," Ellen Barley of the Writers House said about the free, public event.

"She is wind in the sail for caregivers," is how Professor Anton Ugolnik, of the co-sponsoring English Department, put it.

Sugey Cruz-Everts, an alumna and F&M admissions counselor, suggested Watt as a guest, Writers House Director Kerry Sherin Wright said. Cruz-Everts and husband Rich Everts, also an alumnus, founded the Tommy Foundation, named for their autistic son.

Here is an excerpt from the beginning of Watt's poem "Hurricane Hard":

When you hear me

talking about what it's like

to have an autistic daughter,

Tell me "Wow,

that must really be something."

Tell me you admire the kind of

mother I've become.

Tell me you can't imagine it

(although you could if you'd try).

Tell me "You go girl,

loving and raising that child"

Tell me anything

but for God's sake

don't tell me

you're sorry,

even if you mean that you're sorry

you have it easier and I have it hard.

The poet continues, contrasting easy, "the intricate patterns of the brain effortlessly connecting," with hard.

Hard is getting a pair of blue eyes

that tend to flicker off your face

faster than a flame

ignited by an old lighter

to hold steady ...

And when she succeeds?

It's like getting your best dress soaked

dancing in the wild rain.

learning to laugh at the back

of a hurricane.

Jo-Ann Greene is editor of the Books section. Her email address is jgreene@lnpnews.com.