Friday, December 4, 2009

Poem for an Early Winter's Morn (by me)

4:32 a.m.

you
are eight years old - or,
as you keep reminding me,
only two years away
from being two digits
and halfway
to getting your driver's license

school can be a dangerous place these days
what with the teaching of addition and all
not to mention, your telling us of time
(time and time again)
fueling your love of all things numerical

but at eight years old
and at 4:36 a.m.
i will never tire
of watching you slumber in the fetal position
your hands
the ones that deftly control the Wii
and your life
now silently curled under your chin
folded as if in a prayer that is mine

I squelch the to-do list
of all that I could accomplish
in the here and the now
in these small hours

and instead close my eyes - just for a moment
still wondering of the minutes and
calculating the numbers like an accountant
swirling in my head and clashing with the sum
of however many nights more you will do this, this ...

this sleeping in heavenly peace
experts silenced as attachment parenting goes on display in its finery
illuminated and bathed by glow of a winter's full moon

and suddenly to my wondering eyes you unfold
not quite yet emerging from your cocoon
your hiberation from forces unknown

sleeping in even earthly peace is elusive now
as the moon awakens with facts, with moments to come

as we keep an eye on the clock
so we can always know the time

12/4/2009, 5:55 a.m.
copyright 2009, MelissaF

2 comments:

kat said...

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Niksmom said...

Beautiful, Melissa. I think you should subtitle it "A mother's love is timeless" ;-)