for my little man-joy

my heart breaks into a myriad of pieces
as you sleep
your tiny heart pumping hard and fierce
through it's surrounding ribcage
like the sun finding its way through a
complex mountain range
looking to set with grace and without apology.

i am your mother and the utter honor of this
strikes straight through the core of me
taking away my own breath as i watch
you take your own...

in moments like these i smile at your freckles
there at my fingertips to count or kiss, endlessly
which would earn me a few
hours of time at the very least...

simply to stare at you is overwhelming
you are my baby yet
more than half my size
and growing with a purposefulness
and a pride and and unwillingness to hide
who you *are*

never will i truly understand the power
of my love for You
i will settle instead,
to bask in these moments
where i can drink in your beauty
and swallow this warmth and name it
LOVE.

you are a gift:
to your Mother.
to your Mother Earth.

It seems as though, all of a sudden, a switch was flicked on and everything looks brighter so much so, that all things seems possible and the anxiety of waiting for something unidentifiable has simply slipped away leaving a cool residue of calm and confidence squashing doubt with hope and purpose... inspiration multiplies endlessly as this occurs making so many more things seem realistically beautiful and necessary... she is empowered in a whole new way, recalling birthing children the process of not thinking or worrying just doing and doing *well*... this feels very reminiscent and her heart swells with new energy there is so much to do in this life we must only have the courage to dream.

Dirty hand, fresh flowers.

It was that sort of day
where the chaos of children's
schedules, assignments,
drop offs and pickups,
to-do lists and errands
grab at the efficacy of the mind,
tempting
it to bend elsewhere and forget something but
as unnerving as a day like
that can present itself to be,
it is also a day where what is
really at risk of being
tragically overlooked is simply:
perspective.

this lesson was delivered in the form of a
literal boom with a heralding thunderstorm
crackling it's cadence of impending doom
her child at the ball field
stuck waiting for his mama across town

she races forth to just keep on
keeping on, rescue her boy
from that which she cannot
define until,

out her windshield
she sees the most beautiful thing
in the entire world and remembers
to stop. to live. to dream. to be.

a homeless man trudging the
sidewalk who, daily,
walks and walks and walks
these peaceful streets of her town.
she seems him nearly everyday
his tattered dirty clothes;
a knit cap storing years
of thoughts and yearnings.
yet today, in this rattling rain,
he walks on.

In his hand?
Fresh spring flowers,
Tightly gripped. Held
with a purpose and a pride.
A discordance so grand
and magnificent
she is brought to instantaneous
tears. This man is alive.
She is alive.
Living....

With this vision,
heart and mind become
fully whole again.
Life is splendid.
She owes him so much.
We all do.