Baby’s Breath

All day hiking long blue mountains, three
tiny strides to match your mommy’s step,
little ducking flapping upward,
patting along the path,
panting breaths escape your weary face
until the color of a flower leaps onto your lips,
“Look, Da Da!”

All night in the dozing Shenandoah,
the wheezing zees of wind inside the forest,
weaving with your breath,
rhythm in the air,
little nest of baby blankets on your chest
rise and fall, rise and fall.
Silver walls of night light,
shadows in the window,
midnight’s cold and colored voice,

no more to my core
than your breath asleep.

by Kole Allan Matheson

Editor’s Note: Sometimes instead of the parent singing the child to sleep, it happens the other way around. (I particularly liked the second line of the second stanza: “wheezing zees”.)

[Apologies for the double post today: I published the poem with the wrong title in the email/blog post subject.]