In My Mother’s Landscape
Fields of grass parted by a stone wall
bleach and soften in summer sun;
ducks freckle the pond’s pale skin.
Arms raised to the sky, a solitary maple
shelters a passing burst of finches.
Their bright peals of song echo her laughter,
their deft flight the motion of her hands
braiding hair, kneading bread,
comforting a child—while the wind,
the wind repeats the sweep
of her absence.
Clyde I wish I had known your Mother. This poem reminds me so much of our Mother as I'm sure you can imagine. Wonderful poem!
Simply lovely!