Tonight

Tonight, my dear June Apple, I put you in your crib, after you sang your way through peas and carrots, after you squealed with delight at the shower on your face, after we read Little Bear Goes to the Moon, and after you giggled and nuzzled into my breast. I put you in your crib, said goodnight and crept away, and you sweetly talked yourself to sleep. No tears. No crying out. Babble and sleep. You rock.