Poems – Page 42 – Generous Wisdom

Bending

I bend and snap closed her pink heart-covered raincoat,
my knees creaking, the fabric swishing.
I sweep back a lock of her wavy blonde hair
and click the purple flower clip into place.
We will rush for shoes and boots and bag.

She cries when she’s tired, only she doesn’t know that’s the reason.
I wipe the salt-drops from beneath her eyes,
some slipping over her cheeks, falling to her belly, or to the floor.
We hug. She crawls onto to my unsteady, half-squat lap.
I am bending and she is held.

What Time?

“Mama, Mama, Mama.”
They call like newborn birds.
They scramble to get to my criss-crossed lap.
They throw silky arms about my neck, downy feathers in the breeze.

I stop what I am doing, what I’ve not yet begun,
with an eye to future’s empty nest, my raising work all done.

For Sylvia

She reminds me of passion
and singularity of purpose,
of aloneness
and love,
that there is more
to a day than
getting things done.

She reminds me of intention
and sincerity,
of righteousness
and pertinacity,
that there is more
to a relationship than
saying things out loud.

She reminds me to give and share,
to keep and cherish,
to search and find enough.