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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 