Turning. Another Milestone.

Four AM, and after a few hours sleep, 
I’m awake—and resenting it, I’ll admit—
restless in body and spirit.
Every few minutes I flip over the pillow,
the fresh side a few degrees cooler.
Try my left side, then my right,
my stomach, back.  There is no magic posture.

And then I remember
and take comfort in the telephone call
this afternoon from my daughter.
Forty-six years old, and at last a mother, 
she rang me to say she’s sitting there watching
her three-and-a-half-weeks-old son
in his crib, trying to turn over.
Her voice fills with delight,
as she describes that amazing sight:
how, lying on his back,
he struggles and kicks one leg clear,
then balances on his side,
with each effort growing
minutely stronger.  
I can hear him behind her,
cooing and grunting,
as he arches and rocks,
determined to complete the maneuver.

(C) Tony Russell, A Gathering