Getting Away with Schmidt

"Warning! Warning!" No, it wasn't the seatbelt sign illuminating. Nor was it any type of beeping alarm coming from the cockpit. It was the unmistakable smell of a freshly soiled diaper, registering in the alarm centers of my brain, as it wafted into the nostrils, of my fellow passengers, and I, at approximately 30,000 feet, just as we had recently settled into our comfortable ride aboard a regional "fun-jet" en route to Salt Lake City. Matter was descending, alright, but it wasn't the plane. The day had started out innocently enough, with the typical, "up-at-3AM" to catch the 6:AM flight routine", complete with the burning eyeballs and the shaky body of a prematurely risen person... where your body already feels so wracked from packing from the day before, that the idea of coffee would almost be an insult upon on the fragile fortress of your flesh. Nonetheless, (and it wasn't the first time I'd assaulted the body with something i...

This poem was inspired by my littlest daughter, whom I have not yet met, but who more clearly made her presence known with her dear, first (finally unmistakable) little movements, Saturday, August 11th, 2012. When I first learned of your news, it felt like a dream, Proven true when I saw your beautiful face on a screen. Now, I can feel you, my gift from above, And it adds to my feelings of heavenly love. Babies can do things that grown-ups can't do, and you try things with gusto, even though they are new. You rock & you groove to my steady heartbeat, & you can curl your head up, so it's next to your feet. ... unless you are kicking, or running in place, Which makes me imagine the look on your face. But just like all actions, your vigor will fade, Your energy's going into just being made. So, turn your actions to dreams, where you run & you leap, And let mommy's tummy rock you to sleep. :)