Memory of my Mother
Posted: Mon May 23, 2011 3:50 am
Photo I took on the ranch and the poem it inspired:
Memory of My Mother
Fog blankets the pond in misty kisses.
Under the shining sun I can make out
her face swimming among tadpoles and reflections,
mockingbirds chattering. The water is a mirror
at dawn and that is when she appears.
Her eyes are open boxes, boxes filled
with things remembered and horizons and grace.
What does she think of now, lying so quietly
in God''s green earth? And was the madness
within her from the beginning?
The horizons are far away, and receding.
My mother is like that, too.
Always here but always
falling away.
Memory of My Mother
Fog blankets the pond in misty kisses.
Under the shining sun I can make out
her face swimming among tadpoles and reflections,
mockingbirds chattering. The water is a mirror
at dawn and that is when she appears.
Her eyes are open boxes, boxes filled
with things remembered and horizons and grace.
What does she think of now, lying so quietly
in God''s green earth? And was the madness
within her from the beginning?
The horizons are far away, and receding.
My mother is like that, too.
Always here but always
falling away.