breathing.

today i see his smallness,
all 3 1/2 months of it.
he, bundled under the blue, flowery blanket on the red couch.
after i rocked him to sleep in the rocking chair with the creak,
snug against my chest
where he always is,
where he always is,
back to sleep
in the early, dawn-ish morning.

i mention this
because i don’t always see the way it is,
am not at-all-times blessed with clarity.
or truth.

i get muddled,
fear curling around my heart,
& i’m afraid it’s all done now (the good life)
or i’ve screwed it up.
somehow.
again.

but, no.
here we are, plain.
little baby breathing, rhythmically,
under the blue, flowery blanket on the red couch,
keeping me company as i write
at my grandmother’s writing table
in the early morning.

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