baby's breath

My bike flats,

So I walk.

North up 9^th East.

I see a dad carrying his baby.

I see a mom carrying her baby.

Both of them—

These parents—

Headphoned off into their own worlds.

Why does sadness fill me when I see this?

I view them both at precisely the same time—

The dad walking south.

The mom walking north.

Stepping to a tune I do not hear.

My lament comes in question form:

What if they miss their baby's first gurgle of language?

I would be so sad.

I would be sad

And I don't even know those babies' names.

I’ve never patted their backs.

Never wiped their little noses.

Sure, the mom's baby rests slumbering

Cozied up in one of those front stomach carriers.

Still, is not the sound of babies' sleeping breath so sweet?

I would swear

I can hear it even over the noisy cars rumbling by.

That new-to-earth sound comforts me;

I wouldn’t want to miss a single exhalation.

I walk on,

Holding not a baby,

But cradling my bike’s seat in my right hand.

Thinking: ears always open.

I wrote these ideas down on my regular blog a while back, but wanted to do something a little more with them. I don't know if I made it worse. Just a little release before starting school today. Also a celebration of Sierra and Joe becoming parents. Baby Abel (I'm not sure on his given name yet, we'll see) was born last night!!! I'm a cousin! Congrats, lovelies.