Sleepwalking Josiah to Lilium. We swing, sway and bend as his head bounces on my shoulder. He fights the sleep, his head bouncing up like a little bird in a nest, his cries are soft and he finally gives in to the lulling movements. I sit down slowly in a cushiony chair and he barely stirs. His head slips to one side and I close my eyes. His eyelashes are long and soft and they flutter before he is fully in dreamland. Lilium reminds me of melting snow and ice and those things that come after: growing grass, creamy crocuses, and buds that bare themselves on trees not quite ready to come alive again. I pat his baby butt in a rhythm that starts in my head and ends in my fingertips. There is something trance like as I tap my foot in time and hear his milky sighs. His body twitches as he pretend plays...stumbling and walking across imaginary floors in baby rooms full of toys and bottles. His hard head on my chest I realize we share some of the same blood as his body warmth seals up my sad, sore heart, and I can take this home with me and replace it with a pet, but I'll never forget sleepwalking to Lilium with Josiah.

do the jerk * do the frug