Wednesday, May 14, 2014

What Lingers


What lingers

When all is said --

Not words or even breath --

When all is done --

Tools in the shed,
Crusted Gloves 
Drying on the shelf --

Creation, dying cell by cell.
Even pruning
Asks too much,

When all is said.

When all is done --

This shell.

Friday, May 9, 2014

Mother's Day

Painting, Mary Cassatt

"Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
"  -- Kahlil Gibran

This poem is for my children and grandchildren, nieces and nephews, those who have flown, are testing their wings, and those still in the nest. I love you all. 


Your breath on my cheek
My neck, cold when you leave

My arms, suddenly light,
Raised in thanks and praise.

I learn from the birds.

Relentless in their task,
They feed their young until at last --

I shade my eyes 
Against the endless sky

And watch you fly.