Calling all angels
And we're off!

Another mother psalm


Raise your legs, then let them fall
again and again as though you knew
turning over is just a twist
and roll away. Do you remember
somersaults in the warm recesses
of the womb, suspended weightless
like an astronaut on his tether?
Sometimes you kick for long minutes
without stopping, now as then, though
the sensation is lost to me except
in the dreams I visit between feedings.
A few warm days and suddenly
the icebound troughs of winter
are as implausible as pregnancy.
The birches go first, and the willows
a haze of green and gold
on the verge of bursting free,
a new world already almost here.

This week's mother poem takes the form of a psalm, and like the previous two mother psalms I've written (1, 2) draws on seasonal imagery as well as images of my son's growth and change.

I'm not participating in the daily poem festivities at Read Write Poem, but if you head over there you can applaud the people who are writing daily verse...and also those who, like me, are writing one poem a week and sharing it with the community on Thursdays, as we've grown accustomed to doing. (Here's today's RWP post - links to poems in comments.) Where will we share our work on Thursdays when RWP is gone?