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 2020
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Bhi

Intoxicating. Captures the intimacy so well.

Guaj

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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