Short-sleep frazzle-face shambles out.
I put pencil down and close the book,
enfold a tiny person in my arms,
as back to bed she goes.
Smiles swapped, grins given,
no more study for now,
we will off to the grocer,
just the morning, the infant, and me.
Apples, oranges, spinach,
and so much more, one-handed,
careful not to bump or drop
the produce or the person
cuddled elbow-close and
open-eyed amazed, the big wide world
has piñatas on the rafters!
Back home, clear morning light slants and brightens
the world we have enjoyed together.
And he watches me make breakfast
for his brother and his mother and for me,
selfless, I suppose; he cannot yet eat omlets,
delicious though they are;
so working, I sing God's songs
to my morning son, and he smiles,
more reward than I deserve,
O gracious Father,