Valentine's Day Poem for Jim

I've written, before, how
you've saved me from myself:
I've always been most comfortable
with the physical aspects of love;
you've made my touch holy.

Just look at all the mini yous
you've given me to hold
in addition to the 13-year-old
who crowds me in the pew
and does homework at my feet.

The little ones are sick; for days,
I've been trying to bless with baths,
lotion, clean pjs, meds, vaporizer.
For the baby, milk of my own body.
Snuggling for all, most of all.

Yesterday, I held Charleigh
in a comforter on the front porch
so she could breathe cold, fresh air.
We watched a red-capped woodpecker
skitter hungrily, hopefully, up a tree.

What does it all mean? Our home,
our hearts, our arms: they're full.
But catch my eye, every now and then,
just over their sweet-smelling heads.
Show me with a spark and a smirk:

you remember how-why we made them.