A little Monday poetry

This is probably as mushy as this blog will ever get. But I liked this poem, originally posted here.

Milk Drunk

middle of the night

he stirs, but no cry
and roots around for
comfort he knows is nearby

she rolls, turns, asleep
moving. instincts wild -
primal to a mother
at slumber with her child

he latches,
eyes yet closed,
and gulps in all her goodness
as baby dreams unfold

tummy fills up full
no muscles are spent
just blissful sweet release
and everyone's content

milk drunk on momma's love!
he falls fast and deep
rolls back over -butstilltouching-
and everyone's asleep.

~ danelle frisbie