Vase of Daisies
I wonder if I kissed his belly enough
when he was small.
So tightly wrapped up in the paper
of how many diapers I'd changed,
how little sleep I'd gotten,
how ferociously out of sorts I felt
nearly every day
that even in the presence
of the mundane miracle
of growth and will
I think perhaps I failed.
But I listen now,
closely,
when he tells me a fib
with a gargantuan grin,
and then yanks on my ankle.
"That's pulling your leg," he laughs.
My belly flutters
in a tickle of sky,
and in the wide open joy
of letting go.