Wake The Baby

I wrote this poem inspired by a memory of my son when he was a baby.

Daddy dances to the beat

of his little man’s heart,

Skin to skin, cloaked
in the blanket of night.

 

Only Coltrane’s trumpet

Squeals between them.

The snow glazed city stretches
miles beyond the parlor window.

 

Until the baby wakes,

Wailing, making a ruckus,

His father watching, waiting

For sunrise to turn the sky

A brighter shade of blue.