Monday, November 11, 2013

I didn't want to get up when I heard you calling me,
your small voice across the five a.m. house that I'm sure
I could have slept through if there wasn't something
in the way you said 'daddy, come'. You'd woken up cold and

grabbed on to me as if in a flood, and I covered you up and
gave your own heat back to you one moment at a time until
it was time, and I lay you back to bed and went to make
coffee in the growing light from the kitchen window sky.