Frosted Windows

Her parents bundle her up,
Ten days old, against the snow
For the short drive across town

To the village’s clinic
And her first weigh-in since birth.
She hasn’t been suckling well.

Her mother and the midwife
Had a falling-out that led
To less-than-ideal advice

On nursing for the first time.
Frankly, her mother hadn’t
Wanted to hear it. Snow falls

Through the bright cold air around
Their overheated blue truck.
The checkup goes well enough.

They drive back to the cabin,
Relieved. A little weight loss
The first week is normal, fine.

That night, her father stays up
Nonetheless with her when she
Can’t seem to feed well enough.

She nurses his fingertip
As he rocks her by moonlight,
The warmest night of his life.