To a New Mother
Postpartum like worry measures in rate of gain. Accumulates between feedings. Rocks the zombie sleepless. Stills only in grandmother’s handsewn swaddle. One day your breasts won’t ache before she’s hungry. You’ll forget the Huggies and ice cream at the store. You’ll lose your keys in her car seat. A thought of your own will claim you like a diaper bag. You fear one day the carousel of abundance and depletion will slow. Unrelenting laundry, money, dishes, sex, wipes, dog. A month will pass. Maybe two. Her first smiles blurred. Her first toothless belly laugh. One day she will army crawl across the bed. Her motion will pull you forward. You’ll discover gray hairs in your strawberry blonde. Crow’s feet at the corners of your eyes. You’ll hold her, pointing together at the mirror. Look at you grow.
Ascension of Bees
She launches
through dawn’s first beam,
honeybee buzzes
her summer song,
waggles with pollen and nectar
efflorescing in the garden.
Haloed in shimmer,
she sways astride white floral coronets--
mountain ash blushes
like a joyous bride
pregnant with time’s deep caress--
honeybee trembles.
Oh, to be so brave,
six-legged maidens battling
time’s fickle currents--
that nature
would wed such clockwork
constancy
to winged devotion—
to convey this world’s weight
on the hum of liminal wings.
Stone Flower
Little girl, one day your fingers
will reach again for dirt
& pebbles, those you pour
from a sunlit bucket, your face
reflected from a red wagon
slick with morning dew.
You will find fissured stones
inviting you to peer
into the mysteries of this ancient
world. I will remember you
crumbling purple petals
in your palm
then near a geode, split by time
& speaking through you like God.
Dawn Terpstra is a Pushcart-nominated poet, writer, and beekeeper. Her poetry appears in Verse Daily, Mom Egg Review, Midwest Review, Ekphrastic Review, North Dakota Quarterly, Flint Hills Review, Briar Cliff Review, Quartet, Gyroscope Review, SWWIM, and more. She is the author of a chapbook, Songs from the Summer Kitchen, from Finishing Line Press. Learn more at dawnterpstra.com.
Postpartum like worry measures in rate of gain. Accumulates between feedings. Rocks the zombie sleepless. Stills only in grandmother’s handsewn swaddle. One day your breasts won’t ache before she’s hungry. You’ll forget the Huggies and ice cream at the store. You’ll lose your keys in her car seat. A thought of your own will claim you like a diaper bag. You fear one day the carousel of abundance and depletion will slow. Unrelenting laundry, money, dishes, sex, wipes, dog. A month will pass. Maybe two. Her first smiles blurred. Her first toothless belly laugh. One day she will army crawl across the bed. Her motion will pull you forward. You’ll discover gray hairs in your strawberry blonde. Crow’s feet at the corners of your eyes. You’ll hold her, pointing together at the mirror. Look at you grow.
Ascension of Bees
She launches
through dawn’s first beam,
honeybee buzzes
her summer song,
waggles with pollen and nectar
efflorescing in the garden.
Haloed in shimmer,
she sways astride white floral coronets--
mountain ash blushes
like a joyous bride
pregnant with time’s deep caress--
honeybee trembles.
Oh, to be so brave,
six-legged maidens battling
time’s fickle currents--
that nature
would wed such clockwork
constancy
to winged devotion—
to convey this world’s weight
on the hum of liminal wings.
Stone Flower
Little girl, one day your fingers
will reach again for dirt
& pebbles, those you pour
from a sunlit bucket, your face
reflected from a red wagon
slick with morning dew.
You will find fissured stones
inviting you to peer
into the mysteries of this ancient
world. I will remember you
crumbling purple petals
in your palm
then near a geode, split by time
& speaking through you like God.
Dawn Terpstra is a Pushcart-nominated poet, writer, and beekeeper. Her poetry appears in Verse Daily, Mom Egg Review, Midwest Review, Ekphrastic Review, North Dakota Quarterly, Flint Hills Review, Briar Cliff Review, Quartet, Gyroscope Review, SWWIM, and more. She is the author of a chapbook, Songs from the Summer Kitchen, from Finishing Line Press. Learn more at dawnterpstra.com.