In the early mornings
when the papa is home
and the baby falls back to sleep,
I lay her on his chest
and sneak out to the garden.
The smell of the earth is rich,
full of sand, pine chips, and musk
as I crouch among the plants.

Sometimes there is dew and often bird song
and I pull tender white roots or water
and sing softly to my small friends
with their growing green leaves. 

The world is so precious
in these stolen moments
alone with the earth.
I feel grateful;
not the
"list of things I know to say thank you for",
but the
"my breath and bones and body
are happy and home"
solid and resounding gratitude.

This world is crazy.
If I get to wish,
(and we all do)
I pray that my daughter
will grow up to know
peace and belonging
with her connections
in the
web of life. 

I pray she will find joy
in the small and simple things.