Here's a poem I wrote for our middle child (now five!) when she was four months old. I hadn't written any poetry in years, but the idea for this poem came to me in the middle of the night, while nursing. I couldn't go back to sleep until I had jotted a few lines down; by the next afternoon, it was finished.
In Season
for Julianne Elizabeth
By the time we discovered you
you were a comma of possibility,
microscopic but mighty,
a miracle of inattention.
By the time we met you
you were wrinkled and wriggling,
a parched bud of need and longing.
Now we know you, lush, plump, fully realized.
A soft, round belly, milky and cool,
perfect as a pitcher of cream.
Hair, a delicate fuzz.
Eyes, a shock of delphinium blue.
She’s a peach, a friend told us.
ripe, melting
ready to be devoured.
Copyright 2010, Elizabeth May
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