I was walking through Target with two rambunctious boys, mind running a million miles a minute, “almond milk, diapers size 5, tortillas…” when I glanced over at the bookshelf. In big bold letters I saw WHAT KIND OF WOMAN, KATE BAER.

Poetry.

I put that book in my cart so fast.

When I got home, we got through dinner and bedtime. I cozied up on the corner of my couch and let the pages dance through my fingers.

This poem caught my attention and I wanted to share it with you.*

Hot Meals, Biology

My husband does not like poetry. The

soft, ambling words with no beginning

or strong, reliable end. Instead he likes

more certain things: hot meals, biology,

the feel of the putting green.

What he doesn’t know is how much the

touch of his baby’s skin or the way his

mother forms his favorite pie, thinking

about the morning he was born, is all a

verse. A covert melody.

*This work was published with permission from the author, Kate Baer