Labor and
Twelve days before Lent
into the longest drought on record
you arrived
by way of splash and
spasm. I pulled you out with my hands
of your hugging warm home
into mine. My little pilgrim,
new spring shoot, a fasting pardon.
Delivery is an artful thing, a gifted ransom type thing.
Post-mail and packages get done it.
Speeches and flowers get done it.
You got done it, by me.
And I got done it by your
first gasp at 1:34am and everyday
by your short breath sleeping sighs
rustling like paper pages:
branching hymnal leaf of my blood.
Very good and thanks for the window in to your world.
ReplyDeleteI look forward to following your thoughts and ideas.