Cutting your hair in the warm sun of the front porch
In this new home that feels like ours, but isn't.
The neighbors stop to chat as I snip away,
And I am filled with pride
Just to be the woman cutting your hair on the front porch.
It is early spring and my belly is just starting to round.
We sneak out front with the sunrise
For an early morning trim before you jump in the shower.
The warm breeze on our cheeks, the cool pavement beneath our feet,
Every inch of the world trembles with expectation.
Fall is dying into winter and the baby sleeps soundly,
so I cut your hair in the dim light of our living room.
In a new world filled with diapers and swaddles,
this old act of ours feels sweetly intimate,
And I am glad for a few hushed minutes with my fingers in your hair.