my god gave birth to the universe

my god gave birth to the universe
in the darkness she cried out.

my god suckled the universe,
and it grew swirls of milky stars.

my god held the universe to her breast
and life sprung from rocky worlds.

my god weeps over the universe
to cleanse its wounds with her tears.

my god rocks the universe to sleep
slowing light-beats of its pulsars.

my god loves the children of her universe
and smiles upon them with the warmth of a grandmother 
hearing her baby’s baby speak his first words.

[Featured Image by David Siglin on Unsplash]

cereal milk

my animal code built me selfish
don’t share warmth or meat or drink!
but my brain renewed, and I felt it
thinking thoughts I would never think
since that year I made a new baby
and my baby wired her new mom.

now she asks for a bite of my pasta 
and I feed her before I eat.
I delight in her smile as she chews on
that lunch I put on my plate.
 
I offer her spoons of my ice cream
and it’s honestly better that way
to see her smile, to see her delight
at the ginger caramel treat.

The sweet milk left after cereal
She totters up, points at the drink
So I hold the bowl to her lips and
She drinks and drinks and drinks. 

What has she wrought? It’s magic – 
warming and funny and wild.
I’m grateful that I want to share
my cereal milk with my child.

[Featured Image: breakfast, from Wikipedia, public domain]