so much of our time now
is spent gazing towards you
names and clothing
whispers of your birth down a phone line

so many hands
resting like barometers
along my belly
and it feels like the silence

in a thunderstorm
waiting for you to sound
as if hiding in an eggshell
under our hands

we wait patiently
with only the sound of our breath
until you shake, kick, hiccup
and a smile erupts

from my mother or father or sister
new acquaintance or friend
“I felt it!” they sing
and you connect for the first time

with the people
that you will gaze at
in under nine short weeks
and just in the last few days

your daddy and I
experience a shift in your strength
your thunderstorm rumbles
so random and brief

turn into earthquakes
measured over long moments
where with a deep power
you extend an elbow, foot or hand

out in a long slow arc
that we follow in wonder with our eyes
like a shooting star
knowing that our wish has already come true in you

copyright - Christina Adler - 21 December 2009 - San Mateo, California USA

Photo by Peter Moore - Taken in The Hunter Valley in January 2008

side sleeping doesn’t come easy
my back longs to stretch flat
arms and legs reaching out like a jellyfish
trying to find a quiet

so I start
on my right
so that my belly
can beach itself on a nearby pillow

held protectively
by my husband’s unique fingerprints
the life lines running
along the inside of his hand

and when once
we used to rock ourselves to sleep
by our words
our own breathing

it is you now
that kicks us to sleep
we lay silent
in awe of your strength

the way you slide
your body
along the inside of mine
as if to feel

the inside of your father’s palm
and we begin to know you
your tides and your toes
and it is your tiny heartbeat that leads us softly through the night

copyright - Christina Adler - 15 November 2009 - San Mateo, California USA

one evening
in Australia
I felt so homesick
that I unrolled the giant US map

that my aunt Nancy
had given to Peter for his classroom
its shiny plastic laminate
covered one third of the floor in our office

I sat down on it
and reached for a book of
Billy Collin’s poetry
from the rainbow of book spines nearby

laying stretched out
across the Dakotas and Illinois
I let the stanzas
rock me back to a place

of familiar wonder
of shared pain and joy
where the words of another
connect and bind

so that a part of you
becomes whole again
simply knowing
that you are not alone

an hour later my husband came home
to find Billy and I somewhere in America
and he sat down shyly on the Hawaiian Islands
and reached for my hand

today i drove down Guerrero Avenue
in San Francisco
and Jack Kornfield
read me Billy Collins over the stereo

and I thought to myself
how fluid time is
how an evening spent laying on a map
can lead to a chapter in a whole other land

copyright - Christina Adler - 22 September 2009 - Hillsborough, California USA

the days
so busy
in a myriad
of wonderful and essential ways

lots of talking
and manifesting
and finding things
like the missing mail

and amongst that
extraordinary ordinary
I get lost
my thoughts so important

until finally
something draws me
to the cushion
and I sit

focus entirely
on my breath
and find I am home
and centered in this silence

and it is as if
all of the
scattered pieces
of myself

stop dancing
and sit down
on a worn wooden bench
to rest

breathing in
and out
this tidal rest
so invigorating

and my legs
tucked up under me
feel stable
a foundation of home

and in the
center of me
I feel this tiny baby
breathing in and breathing out

and the moment
so bathed in happiness
stands still
in gratitude

copyright - Christina Adler - 3 September 2009 - San Francisco, California USA

the dusty track
under our shoes
speaks in a smoky voice
of the grapes

grown here
for so many years
the finch
ducks and dives

so that her reflection
mingles
for a moment
with the long vase like neck

of the snow white egret
dipping leisurely
into the edge of the pond
like a lady at a spa

my gracefulness
looks clumsy
in contrast
to the twirl at the end of the grape leaf

the patience of the stallion
standing mindfully under a tree
the calm of the sky
sewn to the heat of the sun

and you as well
who walk with a lightness
contemplating this transition
out loud

and then speaking in poems
as you describe
how you have been wooed
by the soft light that filters through these green green American trees

copyright - Christina Adler - 1 July 2009 - Windsor, California USA

some days draw out
silence in me
a kind of quiet
takes over

and like a babbling brook
runnning
over the edges
of my emotions

today seems more grounded
a day where the
words of a friend
arrive vulnerable and raw

honest
reaching out
to create an envelope
for the past

that grief can be rocked to sleep in
and it is on
days like this where everything seems more real
where the quiet cuddles

my words to the page
that I crave those things
most basic
the primary colors of my life

a hot full cup of tea with milk
peter’s giant shoes looking after mine outside the door
the windows swallowing
the sounds of birds into the house

the morning warming up to a hot afternoon
my book in the sunny square of the couch
the Merlot colored yoga mat ready for practice
the laughter of my father coming out of my phone like wind chimes

and the deep blue sheets
which I hang on the line
so that this evening as we sleep
the sun and this warm afternoon

will penetrate our dreams
and although we may not remember
they will surely
lead us back

to presence
amongst the most ordinary
furniture of our lives
and what a gift it is just to witness this

copyright - Christina Adler - 26 May 2009 - Windsor, California USA