Two poems by Ali Thurm

Home birth                 Sun seeps through crab apple blossom and I lie on the sofa exhausted but complete. She’s sleeping next to me wrapped in her blanket. It feels like birthdays when I was a child when the whole day was entirely mine.     Newborn                                                         The first night he was mostly mouth, a hole of noise to stopper, a picture book chick beak … Continue reading Two poems by Ali Thurm