Birds and Babies

I wake up to the sound of birds.

5:00 AM

Way too early for knitting classes,

Way too late for going back into my dreams.

I feel like

SCREAMING at them

For waking me up

This morning.

Every morning.

With their chatter & their smirks,

It seems as if they’re mocking me.

And I hide my head in the covers and

Think.

6:00 AM

When my baby screams.

And screams.

And screams.

And screams.

And screams.

And screams.

And screams.

(And screams.)

And I try to cover my ears,

But (this morning)

I can’t.

So I go in, and cuddle him up, and

He giggles.

And I giggle back.

My baby giggles

(Beautifully.)

8:00 AM

So I look at him pointing

With his

Chubby

Little

Hands

And he is looking at the birds

Fighting and snapping at each other.

And he giggles (at the birds!)

And I stare.

In shock.

For

Quite.

Some.

Time.

9:00 AM

My ears aren’t very good.

I can’t hear all that well.

So lean against my babies ears, and

Listen

Through

Them.

Just connect my eyes to his ears,

Look

Inside

There.

Trying to

See

What he

Hears.

And I

Wait.

And wait.

And wait.

10:00 AM

My baby, my baby, now he can hear.

He can hear the trees shaking with laughter,

Spreading the leaves as they do.

He can hear the chipmunks scattering about,

Whispering excitedly between them.

He can hear the birds.

Oh, Oh, Oh.

The birds.

They sing!

They sing to each other,

Sing about love

And humans

And earth

And nature

And life.

They sing and they dance

And they flutter with

Grace.

They’re pure.

Lovely.

Little.

Birds.

11:00 AM

Me and Baby, we stay there,

Staring at birds,

No one thinks to go to classes

Or about war and cruel things,

Or that their something or other is a pain.

We just stay there.

Holding each other’s hands,

And breath in and out deeply,

Taking in the joy for

Eternity AM