by Gwendolyn B.

My children tandem nursed for around a year. The last days coincided with the beginning of the pandemic, when my second born turned one and my eldest was nearly four. We lived in a small apartment then. It was very cozy, but also a bit claustrophobic, since my daughter’s nursery school had shut down and my husband was working full time from the dining room. So, we spent much time walking on the trails in the woods and by the river, and our rhythm was defined by nursing and nap times. This poem is inspired by the bond my children and I forged in those days, and it remains years later.

Yet and Ever

The clearly wrong thought recurs:
I have no way to stay consistent
I cook/we eat
I nurse/we sleep
I read and listen
There’s music
There’s art
There are tulips and plans for bulbs
The banks flood
The water recedes
We will never see the riverbed dry

They throw stones
Learn about drip castles
Name the hiding places in hollow bushes:
Little dome house
Medium dome house
There’s the Piglet Tree, already in leaf
Their nature treasure offerings at its base
The Eeyore house we’ve built and rebuilt
When spectres overnight dismantle it
Time and again
Leaving charred logs and sticks
In a circle
We were not invited to the nighttime coven
But we play our part
In all seasons of daytime’s own magic

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