Kingdom-Seeker

I stand in the kitchen;
oil sizzles in the pan, dishes clink on the counter.

He wraps his baby arms around my leg,
chest and cheek pressing against knee and thigh.

“I la loo, I la loo, Mommy.”
I am his tree, rooted in his new soil.

I lie on the floor;
legs hover above the carpet, back lifts away from the ground.

He climbs his baby body on top of me,
hands and knees on ribcage and belly.

“I la loo, I la loo, Mommy.”
I am his path, worn in his new ground.

I kneel, hips over heels, near the piano;
clothes stack up neatly, towels wait in a heap.

He plops his baby bottom on my lap,
Legs on legs, hands on hands.

“I la loo, I la loo, Mommy.”
I am his rock, passing ancient time on his new land.

He doesn’t know it yet, but he is kingdom-seeking;
his is a loamy garden, sandy, full of loose clay and black dirt.

He learns love,
and he loves.

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