Content: birth

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My life story from conception to pushing up crabgrass!

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Life in the South circles and swarms me.

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Wakeful hours tending to a fire of the belly. If you wait out the night, the day will surely come.

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Birth/Death

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A premature lamb has died on our sheep farm. Every birth and death is a lesson, a story which adds to our life. This one seemed a metaphor.

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Another pondering on the eternal bond of love between mother and child...

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I normally don't approve of qualifying a poem, but because this was a rather large departure from my normal approach, I thought I'd say a few words about its genesis. This poem chose to write itself (my pen tends to have a mind of its own sometimes). It veered away from the very personal to explore what major elements make up life's experience; the impact birth, dreams, and dawns can have on one's anticipation of death one day; and the way endings beget beginnings in the ever repeating cycle of life.

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