a mother's ear

a mother's ear
winds its way
through the sounds of the house

past the roar of the furnace
the slosh of the dishwasher
and the hum of the computer

finding its resting place at last

in the sweet sound
of the shallow breaths
of her infant son


I scribbled this onto a scrap of paper when Ben was four days old. It's not terribly profound; however, it commits to written word exactly how I felt that particular night. I remember lying in bed, him asleep in the bassinet beside me, completely unable to sleep. I was exhausted, to be sure, but I just could not relax until my ear had separated out the sounds of the house and fixed itself upon his breathing... and when it had... at last, sweet rest.