The weight of her hand

The weight of her hand
descends like a goldfinch
light and airy it lands
at the base of my neck

the trapezius muscle loosens
my shoulder drops inches
and the bouncy finch
is off again through the air.

Stress and tension are melted
boiled, drained away
in those three seconds
of stillness

while love, devotion
kindness are summoned to the top
like magic, like pixie dust under
the weight of her hand.

Trust (IV)

You can do it –
You can get your shoe on
by yourself;
You can go down the steps
on your own;
You can find it
without help;
You can jump
and land on your feet.
I have faith in you.

I can do it –
I can say I’m sorry
when I yell;
I can start the day over
when I am too cranky to smile;
I can let go of my agenda
when I find selflessness;
I can stop
and look for the biggest picture.
God has faith in me.

Waiting (II)

My eyes are closed
and I hear little feet
coming with questions,
questions about outside water play…

The sun has been up for hours,
but they wait for me
to pop out of bed;
they help me serve breakfast;
they enjoy a movie
while I cut Dad’s hair…

empty the vacuum,
fill the dishwasher,
empty the dryer,
fill the washing machine,
open bananas,
close cups…

Now the water table is filling
with cold broth for “nature soup;”
the buckets and sponges are out,
the teacups and spoons in,
sunscreen is on…

The waiting comes
with waking…
and the baby is fast asleep.