The night air had a sharper feel it,
So I put the baby in footie pajamas.
Last time he wore them,
His proprioceptive understanding
Was not formed, apparently,
But now he could see that the
Green cuffs were on his wrist,
The blue foot coverings on his feet.
He touched wrists and feet repeatedly,
Soaking up his expanding knowledge of self.
Then, snuggly warm, he slept well.
I woke in a chilly room and knew
Winter is coming, even without
The thermometer’s precise
Fifty-six.
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