{this moment}

{this moment}

A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savour and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

inspired by Soule Mama

{this moment}

 

{this moment}

A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savour and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

inspired by Soule Mama 

Made Of Human

I

softly beating rain,
beating music,
beating heart 
on that ordinary October day -

sitting with my son, knitting mittens
for the unseen hands.

chopping veg, resting on the counter's edge -
breathing deeply into the darkness when called.

hips circling to the unseen rhythm of bud to bloom dilation
with "a new perspective" on looping rotation.

broken baby waters-arching-crowning rushed;
tinted birthing waters...lamplit room...hushed.


II

this fresh, still flesh linked son
nestled in my arm's nook

his eyes wide, wise, mesmerised,
as I scooped the waters over him.

squat bodied, flappy footed,
the shape of him spilled his secret;

the curve of his eyes revealed
the unseen hidden extra;

three copies, not two
on number twenty-one.


III

and I drank him in,
this unexpected delight.

no primal screams, no broken dreams;
nothing to grieve, nothing to mourn

after forty weeks of growing this unknown,
with no fantasy baby incubating in my head.

instead -

the mother love
the father love
the sister love
the brother love

in the still hushed room,
we embraced our new kin. 

tuesday at ten: a series

upstairs, they drip water from one vessel to another;

downstairs, he reaches the room's end and smiles upon his mother.

touching truth

fresh flesh presses against a cheek,
smoothing it softly with his silken palm.

he reads beneath the lines;
feeling beyond the form of me,
to touch the truth of me.
he is, by turns, gentle and grasping.

his fingers flip from stroking,
to tiny fistfuls clasping
a protuberance (in his exuberance)
- sometimes raising red.

and off with the hats!
and off with the socks!
his hands are the rocks of his world.
he feels his way through;

moseys to the edges,
searching for where he begins and ends,
feeling for the substance of himself,
(as if seeking the spirit of himself)
in the solidness of the walls.

there is no time for resting -
he is forever testing
and examining those interesting
objects which catch his eye.

he investigates
the properties,
the textures,
the fabric
of things:

banging!
dropping!
clanging!
wapping!

he brings things to life
then gleefully claps his hands;
he understands that
he can make things happen.
 

{this moment}

{this moment}

A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

joining with Soule Mama again today...

{this moment} happy birthday...

{this moment}

A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savour and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

I'm joining in with soule mama again this week

little soldier (haiku eight)

he spies the paper -

creeps like a wounded soldier

towards victory.

skydiving

the littlest one is a man on a mission...
no longer static, he moves from his position,
rocking and rolling his way round the room.

he's had his exercise routine down pat for some time now.
head up, arms outstretched, bending backwards in a bow;
making like a skydiver, falling in free flow.

but first he does his straight leg raises whilst supine,
looking like an upturned uppercase L in recline.

i envy his core muscle strength and wonder whether
i was ever able to do what he does with such ease.

he knows where he wants to go, what he wants to do;
he is a little man on a mission.

his way through is clear.
... and i hope he always remembers.

baby wise

he's growing down
and waking up
our latest new addition.
shifted and changed,
a rearranged
unveiling composition.

...unfolding...
at his own pace,
in his own way,
this birth by instalments.

remnants of mole long gone,
he's making eyes, lifts a brow in surprise
as his gaze is sent, in wonder full amazement
to his steepled fingers;
all present and correct for the morning sermon.

he's rehearsing flip reversing,
(he can go from back to side),
and when we row, row, row our boat
there's joy he cannot hide.

it's clear to see, instinctively,
his life force coursing through,
and how his wisdom (natural born)
tells him just what to do.

he listens to that voice inside,
without a second thought
and this allows a grace and ease
to live a life unfraught.

and then, at last, i realise
for him there is no doubt...
he looks at life with Real Eyes
and trusts that things work out.