Monday, October 17, 2011

Portrait of a nursing mother

Feet chilled,
Silhouetted against the curtains.
Orange street lights glowing through the cracks.
Heart warmed by the baby held close
Wrapped tight
Arms forced into the position of  a soldier at attention
Body saging into the lap.
Suck, suck, swallow
Quick breaths mixed into the cocktail
This is all that is important to her
This moment,
Even as she disappears into sleep
She knows nothing but the mothers warmth.
Lay the babe down
Crawl softly back into the now cold side of her husbands bed,
Hope the creaking floor is not heard by the sleepers in the home.
Laying her head down
Grab two minutes of sleep before making her way back
Across the hall to the crying baby.
Long for the warmth of the bed just left behind.
Finding only a frosty window sill
Greets bare feet.
A nursing mothers night.


  1. Slippers dear...slippers. I just read an article about a woman's reproductive years only lasting for a short time and how later on we miss and crave the mothering that lasts for such a short season. Bless you and your babes!


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