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Mother’s Milk
I woke up on the Earth today
planted my two feet
in the soil
of warm slippers
dragged them forward
again
to the kitchen
opened a new carton of milk
poured forth into the mug,
not my favorite today;
that one is dirty
because it’s Saturday
and the rain is still falling,
the dog wants to play ball
again.
Milk in the green mug–
a gift from a student–
heated and frothed,
sweetened with raw sugar,
still and waiting
for the coffee to brew,
the sound of steam pumping
through grains of sand,
like time
again.
Time slows
on Saturday morning,
and milk burns my tongue
again.
I am mindful
of each movement,
my feet, my hands,
my tongue, my voice
silent
on Saturday morning
again.(draft) Margaret Simon
Process notes: I sat down to write with my cup of coffee beside me and the idea of “mother’s milk” from Laura Shovan’s daily prompt on Facebook. This prompt came from Ann Haman. I read Amy Ludwig Vanderwater’s Poetry Friday title “A Poem for the Earth.” So the words milk and earth were sitting with me and my cup of coffee. The rest flowed out of me. That’s how poetry happens sometimes. I usually write them and let them sit and go back later to see if any of it makes sense. This time I just copied and pasted.
Reflections on the Teche 
flows like mothers milk, great rhythm
I love how you take inspiration from so many sources to craft your own unique responses to the world! Another beautiful poem, Margaret!
Wonderful poem that is a wonderful time to appreciate what is near to you on this Saturday morning.
Such careful attention to detail puts me right there with you. Making my morning coffee is a favorite ritual for me as well. I was just writing about that in my notebook this morning in fact. Might become a slice later, who knows?
Love these lines:
“that one is dirty
because it’s Saturday
and the rain is still falling,”
Details of a week perhaps? Yet a beautiful poem to begin the weekend with.
It’s actually been a great week but busy so dishes are not done. Thanks for reading.
I love these beginning lines:
“I woke up on the Earth today
planted my two feet
in the soil
of warm slippers”
and these as well:
“the sound of steam pumping
through grains of sand,
like time
again.”
Wonderful sense of being grounded and slowing down, planted on the Earth. Ahhh….as good as that first sip of coffee
So beautiful, Margaret – just the flow of it, the savoring. I find “milk burns my tongue” so intriguing, somehow.
That was actually literal. I usually can’t wait for it to cool before I sip.
Yikes! I think what draws me is the incongruity of ideas, milk and burning -! Not expected. And, I reread for the sheer pleasure of it.
It’s funny how different lines strike different people. I loved these lines:
Time slows
on Saturday morning,
and milk burns my tongue
again.
I also love reading about your process, Margaret.
I really love the opening here. The break between “in the soil” and “of warm slippers” made me catch my breath. The attention to detail, too, brought me in to the poem. And I do love reading about your process. Happy Saturday.
I want to read again and again…I’ll be back to think more about this piece!
This is so lovely – the tiny details, like your favorite mug being dirty, reveal so much with so few words.
Thanks for sharing your process, Margaret. it is such a great feeling when the words flow from connections you have garnered through reading.