Poem Category: Motherhood

dribbling on my arm
I move the babe
from my breast

nine month’s sway
serving their breakfasts
in summer heat

kindergarten gate
my childhood
as her hand came free

what approached the nine months
for you
I let in

cherry blossoms fall
breast feeding
into her smile

her eighth month…
mid-summer grapes
plump on the vines

Strolling past sunflowers
at eight months
now she accepts their nods.

Rolling over
her baby bump
the sea’s soft swell.

Near her term
leaves falling
past the lace curtains.

Pregnant
the new flowered sheets
for our months ahead.