Sierra V. Fedorko

it was like so many other
Mondays,
but now she was nearly
9 months old
and I was folding laundry slow,
those muslin cloths with goats and owls
and edges thick with
happy lace,
my hands heavy
with the sweetness
fingering through the
seasons
cascading in unshed
tears
behind my eyes.

motherhood—

I’ve never been more
changed
doing the same loads
of laundry
over and over and over
again.

–S.V.F. / Laundry Loads

read more:

If Time Flies So Will I

Dandelions from a Mother’s Perspective – a poem of love & letting go

Minute Made – a litany of grand moments in a simple life