Tara Jennings Poet Quatrain

Love's Conception

At night when we lay content 
at the conclusion of our day,
wearied from labor 
but glad in our endeavors,

I will inevitably say,
   something of inconsequence,
   while our barrier’s down
   to feel your laughter,

slide inside my soul
   and curl in my womb.
Our re-enactment of
   Loves conception.

   The sound of your laughter
echoes in my mind
long days after 
our moment of joy repast,

like the trill of a bell
   beneath a fairy mound,
   who rings in the wonder
   an infant’s first cry rebounds.

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