Affording Sugar

On mother’s day I’m up early,

peeking in on my child,

wiping up cat vomit, sharing

yesterday’s beet scraps

with five chickens in the run,

feeding two dogs who never tire

of my touch. My husband 

and youngest son, who arrived  

last night while I slept,

are still asleep, bless them,

giant men whose lives happen

above my head, witnessing

the dusty tops of fridges

everywhere they go. They know.

I’m down here, whisking matcha,

marveling at cedar shadows

quaking across dusty windows,

a sun rising through smoke

over the Sangres, boiling

four parts water to one part

sugar for the hummingbird

we heard zipping about this week,

looking for our sweet life, the one 

my grandmother gave me

growing my sweet mother inside, 

whose tiny body already cradled

all the eggs she’d ever release,

including me, so lucky.