Procrastinating Again.

My youngest is off visiting college, hopefully one she’ll attend next fall. I feel funny and unsettled. I should be writing for money. But as acknowledgement of my feelings, here’s a poem I wrote in 2004:

(untitled)

Nobody told me

how dark it is at three am when the baby runs a fever

Nobody told me

how hard it is to keep saying “no” with love

Nobody told me, either,

about the blinding brilliance of my own child’s smile

or how soft the hair that receives kisses

before the kid is off again.

May 2004