Poem

Mother's Day Pearls

Warming
Stove turned to bake
Mother’s floured hands pat and stuff
Apricot pies
Fragrant

You sit
In the bleachers
Bundled warm against cold
Watch as we twirl, march on the field
So Proud

You hold
The wheel, driving
Everywhere a child goes
You know the precise direction
Steering

In your
Hands a Bible
You read aloud, show us
What it means to think beyond, lift
Prayers

You two
Work unified
Raising girls or cooking
Kneading kindness, soft words between
Lovers

You, home
Tranquil, alone
Listening on the phone
Savoring each girl’s voice speaking
“Mother”


I sit
Distant, smiling
Missing nothing today
Memories of Mother, talking
Pleasure