Apple baby

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I get a kick out of finding faces in nature, where a face isn't necessarily required. In a cloud, the moon, a tree's bark where branches have left scars. I happened upon this apple face in our orchard this week, the very week our growing future grandbaby is the size of an apple (and we escorted the parents out of the Big Apple for Michigan). I find all this very propitious. The other apple face, below, I found on my university campus a couple of years ago. You might know that the coming of this baby has been the coming of a joy that is beyond anything I've ever felt. It's as if all my cells were balloons, waiting to be filled up, and now someone is breathing into them one by one. In January, when the baby arrives, I might just float away. To keep myself grounded this all has to go somewhere, and I have a thousand and one ideas in my head for expressing it. (These expressions are not only words. See a hint at the bottom of the post.) This little lullaby is the first of probably more lullabies to come.

Apple baby

Apple cherub, laugh with me,

while I bounce you on my tree.

Plum and pear might grow a lot

but they are not an apple tot:

You can watch the fireflies

while robin twitters lullabies.

Close your eyes now as she sings.

Fall asleep and swing, swing, swing.

One morning soon we’ll hear a sound,

and then we’ll know — you’ve hit the ground!

to this tune

Hint of joyful expression unfolding:

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