sleeping with penguins

sleeping with penguins
a hypnotic track on Radio 3,
music for a found harmonium
fills the room… and birdsong
I stand at the door, gazing at Effie
a satin sheet half-covers her,
our new-born snuffles against her breast
drops of milk trickle his chin –
both are sleeping
I climb beside them,
and brush with my lips
the babe-free breast
Effie does not stir
the pasture scent of baby’s head
a misty whisper of perspiration,
the music, the birdsong,
baby’s purring, and Effie’s breathing –
are irresistibly intoxicating
I rest my eyes, I drift to sleep,
and dream I’m dancing in a
mariachi mardi gras
Horace Silver’s Mexican Hip Dance, wakes me,
I slide from the bed,
blow a kiss to the room
Sunday morning life is sweet.

© coolhermit 2023
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Intoxicating. Captures the intimacy so well.


As always effing brilliant. You have the gift of painting raw life in words, Rick. I wish I could be half as good at it.

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