The Good Morning Song

Sometimes
in your role as teacher
of three-year-olds, you forget
it only takes one second and three fingers to count out the breadth
of their experience, they already seem so wise
that you focus on the importance of learning, more and more
you catch glimpses of their depth, it reminds you
to
slow
down
like this morning, when a little girl named Sky, in a pink dress and cheeks so big her mouth works overtime to produce her signature smile,
stood cry
             i
                  n
                            g
as children and teachers rushed by her to their classrooms
you walked over to her and knelt down as she looked up
you held out your arms to her and she held out her arms to you
she put them around your neck, and you wrapped her in a hug
as her tear-drenched cheek brushed your cheek, and your mouth
rested just beyond her miniature ear, it struck you
how perfect a fit
she was, you were, together
you felt like one entity, big and small, joy and sadness
completing each other, perfectly
you sang The Good Morning Song for her, softly
but more deeply
so that she could feel the music coming through you, right then
you tried to fathom
if this

just this

     is like this

then how
             could you ever be a mother...


it would break you

                          w i d e   o  p    e      n