Hearts on Paper

October 27, 2010
She's got mine!

Serenity sat with me this morning,
reached for my clipboard of notes and blank paper.
Awkwardly holding the mechanical pencil
     in her left hand,
made stabs and swipes at the college rule:
     the scribbles are getting bolder.
Fingering the letters of my name
printed and taped to the metal clip,
I explain she is of a select few
who call me Grandpa.

Gazing at the work of her hand
she wraps her arms around the stiff board
and hugs the page to her tiny chest.

Wet: morning of September 30, 2010

September 30, 2010
Serenity is a fount of inspiration!

It rained last night and the earth is all wet;
too wet for little feet,
too wet to be absorbed by a single disposable diaper.

So you return the favor and press
drool soaked lips against the window pane,
giving the world outside a sloppy wet kiss,

your diaper drooping below sea level.

Ghost of Serenity

September 20, 2010

You're not dead.
Just not here.

Where'd she go?
Don't wave bye.

Blown kisses
fill the air.

Echoes of morning jabber
tickle my inner ear.

Toys are scattered across the floor.
No one is playing.

I eat my Cheerios®
alone.

You're not here.
We're not alive.

Baby Dreams

August 13, 2010
I actually started writing this when Serenity was an infant. I found it amazing that she was experiencing REM so early. Her dreams must have been amazing.

Eyelids closed in infant sleep;
     rapid eye movement
as quick as your heartbeat:
What could you
     be dreaming?

With eyes wide open you can't find,
     can't even focus;
yet visions flash in your mind:
What could you
     be dreaming?

Not old enough to even be young.
     Heart not awakened
to the good or bad; right and wrong.
What could you
     be dreaming?

Is your soul still connected
     by a heavenly cord?
Your innocence unaffected.
What could you
     be dreaming?

Serenity's First Birthday

August 6, 2010

I'll miss you when you're gone:

          pointy finger
          squint your eyes
          purse your lips
          slobber drool
          wobbley dance
          crab walking
          waddle down the hall
          peek-a-boo
          numma numma breakfast
          yay--clap, clap

I'll see you in the morning
for our walk among the trees.

Taste and See

June 14, 2010
Straight from the printer to the blog.


Serenity lay in my arm,
left hand supporting
the bottle of formula,
ever moving fingers of her right
wrapped around my pinky;
working the nipple,
she relaxed as I rocked.

Reading the Psalms of David,
trying to hold onto Serenity—
the uncoordinated ballet
of her tiny digits
fingering the pages
as she gnaws the cover.