I fed my lap with toddler tush commuting to the west.
Remember that? I told myself I would.
The bus’s back, the northern side, the day one of our best:
I knew the moment for its perfect good.

For I remember looking at the bay,
the morning glorious and warm and clean,
a bundle on my legs outwarming day
and brighter, sweeter felt than any scene.

And I remember thinking as we rode,
inhaling shining hair, embracing waist
that puppy-curved within my palms and showed
the shape and scent of love, the baby taste,
that life is hard and no one promised peace or harmony,
but I at least could capture bliss within my memory.