Spring
Rain-boots in puddles
Turns toes to prunes
Hot cocoa
Turns prunes to toes
(Yes, I know one must use a very liberal definition of haiku for this to qualify. Have you ever argued with a 4-year old?)
Monday, February 22, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Season Haiku #1
This is the first of four poems I wrote for my twins. To be honest, I had the idea of this before I sat down to write with the boys. But they helped me hone it. The seasonal haiku that will follow Winter are, well, even less crafted. I will add, though, that the others were more fun to write. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them with my boys.
Winter
Bleached snowdrifts
Deaden familiar chimes
Of my inbox
Winter
Bleached snowdrifts
Deaden familiar chimes
Of my inbox
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Kiss Me
A friend has goaded me into returning this blog, so here I am. He's told me I should write about parenting, so I will.
Yesterday, my wife and two of my sons woke early. I stayed in bed with the third. Later in the morning, our youngest was tired by 8 am and my wife was in the shower. So as the twins played in their room, I danced with our youngest to Sixpence None the Richer's song Kiss Me. As you might have guessed slowly fell asleep in my arms. It's a beautiful thing to have a baby sleep in one's arms. There is a connection between a child's breathing and one's own that is deeper than a rhythm or pattern. Certainly one could argue it's biological, though I don't know. What I do know is that I didn't want to put my son down and I didn't want to go to work. I wanted to stand and sway, feeling his warm little body rest against my chest, and holding his gently and firmly as he twitched, and rubbed his face on my shirt.
I eventually had to pass my son to my wife for the rest of his nap. Work was unavoidable.
Later in the day, I spoke with my wife on the phone and she told me she played Kiss Me again while holding our son and he got down from her arms and started calling and looking for me. My heart melted. And I will always have the memory of that warm, unconditional love and trust.
Update: He fell asleep to the song again on Saturday, despite our having company.
Yesterday, my wife and two of my sons woke early. I stayed in bed with the third. Later in the morning, our youngest was tired by 8 am and my wife was in the shower. So as the twins played in their room, I danced with our youngest to Sixpence None the Richer's song Kiss Me. As you might have guessed slowly fell asleep in my arms. It's a beautiful thing to have a baby sleep in one's arms. There is a connection between a child's breathing and one's own that is deeper than a rhythm or pattern. Certainly one could argue it's biological, though I don't know. What I do know is that I didn't want to put my son down and I didn't want to go to work. I wanted to stand and sway, feeling his warm little body rest against my chest, and holding his gently and firmly as he twitched, and rubbed his face on my shirt.
I eventually had to pass my son to my wife for the rest of his nap. Work was unavoidable.
Later in the day, I spoke with my wife on the phone and she told me she played Kiss Me again while holding our son and he got down from her arms and started calling and looking for me. My heart melted. And I will always have the memory of that warm, unconditional love and trust.
Update: He fell asleep to the song again on Saturday, despite our having company.
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