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By Kathryn Simmonds

The baby sleeps.

Sunlight plays upon my lap, through doily leaves a black lab comes,

a scotty goes, the day wears on, the baby wakes.


The good birds sing,

invisible or seldom seen, in hidden kingdoms, grateful for the in-

between. The baby sleeps. Elsewhere the Queen rolls by


on gusts of cheer — 

ladies wave and bless her reign. The baby frets. The baby feeds.

The end of lunch, a daytime moon. The leaves


are lightly tinkered with.

It’s spring? No, autumn? Afternoon? We’ve sat so long, we’ve walked

so far. The woods in shade, the woods in sun, the singing birds,


the noble trees.

The child is grown. The child is gone. The black lab comes,

his circuit done. His mistress coils his scarlet lead.


This poem was published in The Visitations (Seren, 2013).

Source: Poetry (October 2014)

  • Living
  • Nature
  • Relationships

Poet Bio

Kathryn Simmonds
Kathryn Simmonds’s most recent collection is The Visitations (Seren, 2013). See More By This Poet

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