Pregnant in June

The sun-filled tree
kaleidoscopes,
suspends my weight
from small white ropes.

Just breathing makes
the hammock rock.
Eyes close. One wavelet
slaps the dock.

Porch floorboards creak.
A screen door yawns.
Children approach.
On close-mown lawns

wood mallets tap,
croquet balls knock.
That softer sound?
A shuttlecock.

Green apples hang
over my nap.
They'll ripen, drop
in my swaying lap.

Copyright © 2003 Dolores Hayden All rights reserved
from Playing House
Robert L. Barth
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission