To Gus, 6 days short of 8 months:

In the dark, we walk.
Twinkle lights bright through the window
And your eyes soak up the glow.
The creaking floors, my tired arms,
They don’t affect you.
Awake, so awake, so I’m awake.

In the dark, there is no rush.
I cannot hurry sleep any more than I can hurry the moon.
That moon is a slow gliding sliver tonight,
Far gone in the East,
Watching, waiting, still,
While you run from sleep.

In the dark, I try all my tricks
But you are too smart. Too wise.
Once I would have fretted, impatient.
Grown angry at the injustice.
Lamented my bad luck and
Dreamed of sleep.

Now I know how few these days are,
These days of silent night trysts.
I revel in our solitude and bask in the quiet.
Soon you will be too big for me to rock,
To soothe, to kiss your cheeks because I feel like it.
Yes, sleep comes too soon.

In the dark, I think of Mary,
Pondering these things,
These midnight moments, in her heart.
How she breathed in the scent of her son,
Touched the face of God made flesh,
And hummed him to sleep.

In the dark, you grow heavy,
Not to hold but in fatigue,
It feels like victory so I remain where we are.
I drink deep of this night, this trust bestowed
That lets me hold you and
Lead you to sleep.