Keith Snyder
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Two babies and their songs


I sang "hush little baby" every night
Before they came. It seemed the thing to do.
Still blind, still gray and bloody in the light,
He raised his head to find the voice he knew.

The mockingbird is magical, it seems.
It cuts through fussing, interrupts bad dreams.
My daddy's here! it says. He knew it long
Before his birth--that daddy is a song.


When he was born, they said that while it might
Sound cute, it meant his air canals were tight.
To us, it sounded like he liked to sing,
But nurses know about this kind of thing.

They called it "grunting," said it would be best
To clear it, so they whopped him in the chest.
He stopped his singing, sucked a breath, and screamed.

I guess his lungs were better than they seemed.

At four months old, he sings himself to sleep,
And sings when he wakes for a moment, then
He stretches, grunts, and growls, and heaves a deep
And final sigh, and sings to sleep again.

[Best of the Blog| News & Notes about CREDO ]

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