bending in the garden,
a morning prayer before the sun bakes my back into a confetti of freckles.
i am 7 months pregnant, feeling the weight of this child more every morning.
hotter days, swollen feet in sandals.
hosing the dirt from limbs. reveling in the cool of the water.
thump-bump, flip. my womb is kneaded.
my daughter, almost 2 1/2, plucks blue cornflowers, her gardening ritual.
the stray pink or purple flowers are reserved for her strawberry blonde hair.
a second pregnancy differs from the first. counting down the weeks, instead of up.
mr. October will arrive, an end to the harvest.