stand outside with a hot mug of cocoa—spiked— snowflakes mixing like impromptu marshmallows —there on the surface of your cup and then gone as quickly as this moment—you blinking, beside your bundled husband, your blanketed son— it is a gray day. you breath—you are grateful.
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Were you not enough or was it all too much and the emptiness meant you were just tired?
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Without agenda, another cold day slips by, in food and sleep and little chores, in tussling the boy to the floor. The house moves in sighs, a tiny capsule on a small planet in a strange time. The year moves in an endless round ring.
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It takes one stretch to wrench a new, more painful shape to the day; years to relearn good posture.
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Balance on delicate arched feet, and walk in joy, held by whomever you choose to love you.
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He grabs the thick pink sleeve of the terrycloth robe, wanting the same comfort my mom gave me.
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The wail like a siren in the night: Baby down! Shocked to face the world alone, even briefly.
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