When You Were Just a Heartbeat
by Laurel Molk
When you were just a heartbeat,
we fell in love with you. The days were
short, the nights were long and
the snow fell softly.
As you grew, winter turned to spring.
The pond melted, and the ducks
returned from far, far away.
While you were growing fingers and
toes, the salamanders, wood frogs, and
spring peepers all migrated under the cover
of darkness as the rain poured down
from the heavens above.
When you were no bigger than my
palm, the black-capped chickadee collected
twigs and tufts of grass and even bits
of string to build its nest.
As you were punching and kicking
within, new lambs were being born on
the farm and taking their first wobbly
steps toward their mamas.
At last you could hear us. It seemed
as if the birds were celebrating -- calling
back and forth and spreading
their wings for flight.
Around the time you opened your eyes
for the first time, the irises were standing
straight and tall -- a purple parade.
While you were busy doing forward
rolls, the squirrels were scampering about,
gathering the first acorns to stash away
for the long winter ahead.
When you were too big to roll
over, the pumpkins were fat
and round on the vine.
And when you were born we
all rejoiced. And we'll always
keep on loving you.
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