nursing my son in bed tonight, he twice tilted his sleepy head up to my face, eyes closed, pausing for a moment. his breath - moist, milky, warm - blanketed my mouth, my nose in the dark and quiet of our room.
all of his life, the moments in which i have felt his breath have reminded me of his sacredness, have awoken me out of the rush of my days. creator's breath itself, the air that sustains this little boy, moment by moment. that i can feel it, breathe it in to my own body, is astonishing to me.
A lark constellation hangs in the night sky, beating its wings as it lifts off the ground. Everything I love, this whole earth, is under the lark.
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