The Middler

My button-nosed Middler.

This one gave me bruises.

Kicks from the Inside….leaving me black and blue on the Outside.

His tiny feet jabbing and punching at all hours of the day and night, reminding me he was there.



Never had to run in a panic to the Dr.

begging for an ultrasound.

Is he ok?

I knew he was ok.

Laid out on the operating table, I felt a warm buzzing, like the feeling just before a rainbow.

When he was tugged out of my belly, I screamed.

Which startled the whole hospital.

Nothing was wrong.

Everything was right.

And I couldn’t be quiet about it.

I still can’t.

This one makes me sing.

The Meanest Flower

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting

The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star,

Hath had elsewhere its setting,

And cometh from afar:

Not in entire forgetfulness,

And not in utter nakedness,

But trailing clouds of glory do we come

From God, who is our home.

Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower;

We will grieve not, rather find

Strength in what remains behind;

In the primal sympathy

Which having been must ever be;

In the soothing thoughts that spring

Out of human suffering;

In the faith that looks through death,

Thanks to the human heart by which we live,

Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,

To me the meanest flower that blows can give

Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

-Bits and pieces taken from”Ode: Intimations of Immortality” by William Wordsworth

For the full poem, Click HERE*