Mother to Son

Mother to Son

As I hold you now,

your tender newness warm against my breast,

I cherish this small stable where we rest,

and the solitude of the night.

As your tiny fingers, so perfect,

curl around my own,

I scarce can bear the joy.

My tears fall gently down

to wash your sleeping brow.

I kiss them quietly away

and think, with just a wisp of sadness,

that tomorrow

the world will know your name.

Angels will herald you with golden trump,

while Heavenly Choirs resound

from mountain top

to lonely shepherd's ground.

Tomorrow--

you will be our King--

a Savior to a world thirsting

for what is yours to offer.

Tomorrow--

wise and learned men

will bow on bended knee

before you little one

and honor you with wealth untold.

All people, from the humblest

to the highest born, will speak your name

in awesome whipser.

But that is tomorrow, my sweet son.

Tonight,

with your velvet cheek

soft against my own,

with your tiny body

nestled in my arms,

I can know you're mine,

my son.

Third Estate

Some coming day,

my only love,

you and I will populate planets.

In one sweet night,

we'll, in rhythmed kiss, unite

to create Abrahams...

Esthers...

Claires...

and other angels unawares'...*

We'll make of love

in breathless weaves,

Adams who will follow Eves

out of gardens, clothed in leaves

we've made.

Our love makes them unafraid.

With passion such as trembles skin

and lights Celestial fires within,

we'll forge an Emma who will go

by Joseph's side while wild winds blow,

and jaws of hell gape open wide.

Our two bodies, warm beside

each others touching, will have sighed

and kept creating sons of men,

who, with our daughters, rise again.

With every breath,

with each embrace

our loving, tremblng fingers trace

the path from ear to heart to face.

For now,

Eternity is you,

and we've our Father's work to do

and all of time and space to love

and life to give to millions of

children born to worlds above.

Some coming day

my only love.

Kissing Elizabeth's Cheek

Twenty-six pounds of

wiggling, giggling two-year-old

snuggling into my ample lap.

"Did you have a good nap, honey?"

Her round brown eyes glittering

through thick black lashes blink "yes."

She rubs them with a chubby fist

as I squish her Lilliputian body

close

so my noze can nuzzle

through twirling swirls

of light-brown curls

to find her marshmallowy

nap-warmed cheeck

and kiss her blissfully

over and over again

until she squeals--

"I wuv you da most, mommy."

I kiss her again.

Return of the Prodigal

You left

before you left, you know--

and couldn't know how far you'd gone

or how far you'd need to go--

packed up the Spirit and Truth

of your youth,

hid them behind your 80-proof,

spent all your time

with Jack* and Jim** and Mary Jane***

always trying, always failing

to forget from whence you came.

This time the leaving

has brought you back home.

How far you'd gone...

How far you've come!

*Jack Daniels

** Jim Beam

***Marijuana