postpartum in winter

postpartum in winter

body echoing the land.

my womb sleeps

for now

she is like the virgin earth

belonging only to herself

she is barely stirring

the big exhale

this is crone state

this is

the old woman in the mountain.

she knows 

this is the time for the heart.

kindled in the breast

milk flows

like a solstice sunrise

pouring hues of love

flowing over the sky

over the land

as I hold my babe, tired eyes stinging

but if I had been asleep

I would have missed it.