by Ute Carson
The Writer Within, August, 2006

Sweet nectar of babies,
Sweaty down and creamy milk.
Being the center of the world
My baby is curled up like a raccoon in its tail,
Eyes unfocused,
Mouth anchored to the source of endless nourishment.

I inhale the soothing, lulling scents.
The wounds we will inflict on each other some day,
Not from malice nor bad intentions
But from seeing the world through different lenses,
Are still hidden from awareness
By boundless contentment.

- ~ -