For LL, on the birth of our second child

one day soon
when life is simpler
I will wake up (rested) with the sunrise
put the water on to boil
take a little walk up the side canyon
pick a scattered handful of wildflowers:
larkspur, arrowleaf balsamroot, serviceberry.
return home and pour the water and bring you coffee in bed:
cream, no sugar.
we will have a leisurely breakfast of scrambled eggs with kale and mushrooms.
maybe you will read a chapter in that book club book you’re tolerating,
do a pilates workout video,
walk to the main street market for some fresh basil.
it's the one herb that has eluded your agronomical efforts.
I will stay home and do all the things a blogger is supposed to do:
write some emails, read some news, read other people’s blogs,
make intelligent and witty comments,
write something of my own.
with appropriate links attached.
maybe, later, you will read it.

that day is a long way away.

until then
knowing you may never read this
I can only try with my actions
—small, inadequate things, maybe a trip to the drug store for more balms—
to say thank you
thank you
thank you thank you thank you
for the interminable seconds
that stretched into minutes
that became hours:
how many we cannot know,
for your eyes were closed,
and mine were fixed on yours:
the hours of labor built on months of hope and years of love,
that you worked
and worked
and worked and worked and worked
to bring into this world the most unspeakable,
the most holy,
the most whole of miracles.