the blessed silence
My feet, cold, slide easily between the sheets,
warmed by the heating blanket I'd be lost without.
My eyes, burning, beg to be closed,
after a day spent reading books and watching little feet carry my girl around the house.
My shoulders, tight and strong, yearn to be rubbed loose,
after carrying children, backpacks and the weight of everything.
My hands, sore and dry, from dishes, laundry & cleaning,
desire to be quenched with thick cream from the tub beside my bed.
My lips, cracked from anxious licking and unending winter,
cry out for chapstick so more prayers of thanks and pleas of needs can be uttered to the Lord.
My soul, tethered to those of my four littles, cries out to be tended also.
"Quiet," it begs, "let's rest and be quiet."
So I lie in bed, head sinking into my pillows and allow the blessed silence to envelope me
and lull me to sleep.