“A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight,
and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.” –Oscar Wilde
In the midst of a winter storm
he entered our life.
our Wilde one-in a calm.
in a room we never thought
could get so warm
our house full of love
wood-heat and birth-tub
cauldron
one afternoon like no other
right before Christmas
wondering what bloom
would announce his arrival?
like the chocolate lilies
on the shack path
before Finn’s birth
I noticed the lipstick
pink tips on the
christmas cactus
reaching out for
what light could
be had at the south facing
kitchen window
at winter solstice
the final weeks of
Melinda’s labor
I read old poems to Finn
ones I’d written
waiting for his arrival
and one stuck with him,
he began reciting it to
his new sibling minutes
after his arrival…
“I know your finger
is not a boob”
we all laughed,
taking turns holding
our new little guy
tight against our
bare chests
gentle embrace
strong arms
naky time
we call it
irregular breath
eyelid flutter
tiny throat noises
a dragon searching
for fire
life in the lamb den
Jonas Lamb 