She is a warm bundle on my chest,
her breaths heaving and audible in the dark,
her arms hanging limply
then tightening, spazzing, flailing,
her tiny hands batting at my chest:
she is trying to fall asleep.
Do we know what it means to
be in the moment?
To find ourselves in the picking up
After all it was the ninth inning of
the World Series when she cried out,
when I crept into her world
to sooth her transition from waking life
to dreamland. If you think about it,
most of us still have trouble falling asleep
on our own, hence, the TV, cocktails,
our tossing & turning, tightening & unwinding.
The thoughts that pass through our minds at bedtime.
It is only when I focus on releasing
the tension in my own limbs,
on my own inhale and exhale,
that she finally gives in,
gives up, sighs a great big
baby sigh, her limbs going limp,
her body letting go into slumber.
By then the game is over,
and she and I have have edged
a little closer to the championship.