Baby's Breath (edit)

[UselessBlueprint]

"Baby Breath"

Silver walls of nightlight,
shadows in the corners,
baby folded in the covers,
rhythm in the air, baby blanket
rise and fall, rise and fall over baby’s belly. (lots of images, but little happens)
Rest. (not a whole lot I can say for this one. positions are fair, images are fair, but I get very little from it. I personally prefer to read something with sentences, i.e., action -- not a list of images, as this begins with)

All day hiking long hills, little steps (I'm a notably poor mind reader, so the line breaks are mystery to me right now. perhaps that will become clearer in the future)
flapping forward, duckling
face, eyes squint low and narrow, (images are even better now, and a little more stuff is happening)
all the way to the top, three (particularly confusing enjambment for me. I can dig up a few potential reasons, but right now I prefer to believe it's simply for sylllabes)
tiny strides 
to match mommy's step,
patting along the path (works well with the duck idea, sonically speaking)
focused, determined, three years old, (first two words are a little redundant, and don't seem like they belong to me (opinion) , but definitely worth reexamining this line)
not one wine or tear (whine? or wine?)
in the sprinkling rain.

At night in the doze of the Shenandoah, (googled this, I'm only familiar with the topography of Maine, New York, and Alaska)
the wind blows inside ("the" on subsequent lines throws me off. not actually a problem)
the forest whispering
to baby’s breath,
and from doze to snore (no idea what's going on from here onward)
and breeze to gust,
cold clattering,

no more to the core
than warm winds of you asleep. (I don't like leaving the "you" until the end. It always feels cliche to me, but more critically, introducing such a severely ambiguous character on the final line means that I now have to consider far to many possible "you" characters when reading.)

Okay, so I'll try to go about this seriously, but it is late at night and I haven't sat down with this for too long. Between a mother, a three year old, a duckling, a mountain, and a "baby", I can only connect a few of the ideas within your piece here. I prefer when a poem is written with sentences that have syntax and semantics when the line breaks are removed. I prefer it to tell some sort of story. If not that, then I prefer it to be conversational. This doesn't seem to me to be either. You haven't overused whitespace this time, which I am glad about.

Personally, I find the styles and subjects of your writing to be confusing, and perhaps a bit of something else which I cannot currently describe except to say I do not like it. Nevertheless, I am dangerously close to almost liking this one. If you can sacrifice ambiguity, give me clarity. If you cannot sacrifice ambiguity, give me connections, otherwise it's like trying to connect the polka dots.