It is a gorgeous day out there, the birds are singing, squirrels are jumping around, it is a beautiful day. That also makes it a beautiful day to read - and write - some poetry, and I have a special treat for you today: A guest poster!!!!
OK, it's my mom. She's awesome, and you know what? I don't tell her that often enough, but it's true. She also had a birthday this month, and since I did a poem for my dad near his birthday, I should do one for her! But first, here are her offerings on poetry!
Light Play
Dark hides our yard,
Oak and pine shadows
Stand dimly quiet
While baby birds settle.
Dawn speaks shards of light,
Shadows crawl through,
Inching bright inkblots
On decaying leaves.
Light dances with breezes
as spring dapples green polka dots
among branches.
Late afternoon quiets amid humid heat
while shadows provide respite.
Darkness, light, darkness
The dance of spring and summer.
Autumn leaves will carpet soon
Leaving rusty decay to feed the ground.
Cycle completed.
Backyard
An alphabet of avians attends us:
Colors, vivid and dull, flit about feeders,
Voicing unsingable notes,
Chasing would-be predators,
Guarding nest--tenacity at its best!
Lessons? - many; Determination? - rampant;
Constancy? -incredible!
Watching, watching --always alert!
Thanks, Mom, for sharing your words with me, and for having the guts to put it out there!
OK, now time for some originals of my own!
Mom
i knew you first
as a gentle voice,
warmth,compassion,
kindness and love,
the safety of the world in your arms,
my guide and teacher,
my ever-present friend.
i grew,
you became more -
discipline, authority,
provider and caregiver,
nursing skinned knees,
and planner of birthday parties
my chauffeur and
encouragement.
now grown,
you are my friend,
at times, a colleague,
fellow artist and advisor,
one whom i work to not disappoint,
and a woman i admire for
strength, tenacity, truth in being.
i could give a thousand titles,
and all would be true -
for there are many hats you wear -
but for this we have a word:
you are simply,
Mother.
Tulips on a Spring Day
their stems look weak,
too tall and flimsy,
like they should all the sooner be
trampled under their own eight,
until they open,
the reds and whites of petals
offering shelter for the first of the spring bees
as they collect their precious nectar.
theirs is a short life,
soon they will leave and other flowers will arise in their place,
but for a moment,
theirs is the beauty of this time,
theirs the unique glory,
the heralds of sunshine,
bringers of summer.
Thanks for reading!
Me
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