A blue-gray rabbit
stirs in her cedar chip cage
as dawn pours
through the big window
onto the shaggy rug
(I should vacuum)
where my son
new to a world
outside womb
lies kicking
as he kicked
while within,
we each on our backs
on soft wool rug
waving hands and feet
in the sunbeam air
while mama sleeps.
Do I mimic him
or he me? We kick, wave, smile
while Quinn the German shepherd
sits in birdsong outside
keeping guard of baby,
of sleeping mama, of Bunny Blue
maintaining our only shred of dignity
(I should vacuum)
this simple silly
leg-waving morning
when life is newborn.
…..
First published in Storyteller Poetry Review. Thank you editor Sharon Waller Knutson.
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