BY HOLLY DAY
Copyright is held by the author.
In Wait
I wrap my thoughts around the egg inside me
tie my nest with hopes and dreams
will my body full of feathers
fluff and bubblewrap.
Each step leads me to disaster. I
could trip and fall and lose it all.
I wrap myself in blankets and pills
cradle my stomach in warmth
close windows against drafts and rain
barricade the door against wolves outside.
I Am Sitting on the Edge of a Lake
Next to me, toes in the water, my daughter
is writing a poem. She wriggles against the itch
of dry grass pricking her bare legs
tries to focus on the task.
I smile and nod and resist the urge
to launch into lectures on form and process
as she stops after each line to show me
what she’s written. I want to tell her
how beautiful her voice is, how beautiful her poem is
but I’m afraid she’ll stop writing.
The young — a creativity adults yearn to re-discover…let go..immerse ourselves in wonder again.
This is a touching mother/daughter scene.
Beautiful words.