freckles

as the sun rises
i wake up
to find poppy & the puppy
already awake
as the chores wait
i lay in bed & listen
to these early morning musings
by poppy
as he imagines that the puppy
has feet
like a person
insists
really
that he had made a potion
to give people feet
to puppies
i love the bedtime & early morning
musings
of these little people
who enchant
my life.

just messing about. this reminded me of a poem i wrote about iggy when he was four and as we were cuddling & reading bedtime stories he told me he wanted to eat a live pigeon .
if i could just do all my momming while laying about in bed.

my poem for iggy:

pirates in disguise
“they’re made from recycled money,” says the woman
handing out pencils at the bank.
“recycled money,” i repeat.
“that’s cool,” i tell him.
“noooo,” he insists. “recycled bunnies.
she said ‘bunnies,’
‘cause the bones are hard like pencils.”
when it is bedtime he tells me he wants to eat a chicken
boil off the feathers and eat it.
i remind him that he has eaten a chicken.
“oh,” he says. “i mean a seagull.
i want to eat a live seagull.”
he asks me to dye his mohawk purple.
he asks me to sharpen it when the hair on his head grows too long.
he changes his clothes many times a day
just like he changes his mood.
he is fierce & he is powerful.
only four years old;
he is mighty & the world belongs to him.
i know he is mine because i see
the stubborn
feisty
rebellious
warm & fuzzy
miracle that he is.
we cuddle together & tell each other secrets
like
i love him all the way to the moon & back
& he loves me for all the sharks in the ocean
& sometimes i feel halloween is the only time we show who we are
every other day
we are pirates in disguise.

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