my mother's humble home.

been fresh, new, she is my constant.

to catch bees by their wings. Now free, the bees go on their/

own paths to find a new hive. 

watching them in those moments and waiting

for when they would eventually break out, swiftly,

and steadily, flying into the world departing their

old life.

Needing love like that occasionally, but I have already

Felt it.

had it. I'll walk in glowing, we will talk,

and then, when she thinks I'm fast asleep, I'll hear her exulting

To have me in my childhood bedroom again,

behind that door!

watched me. Still watching even as I walked away, always/

waiting for something, always waiting to see what I do.

When I was once in her arms all the time

out the window of the coffee shops,

supposed to be completing my college work,

entranced by the rush of the clouds

moving in the sky--I remember the moment the

cloud uncovered the sun, after diminishing its light,

and it shone brightly over the Earth.

Week after week, the moon rising, and setting, and waxing-

On a swing, higher and higher as she pushed me,

I would laugh, she would laugh,

Look into her eyes, listen to her sing, then swing

And now I am on the right track,/

With a little help from her.

the wrinkled skin of her upper arms, warm

worn, dull.

week after week, the moon rising,

and setting, and waxing--whirling, over the months,

in a slow blur, around our planet.

she fed me to sleep, week after week, the moon rising,

and setting, and waxing--whirling, over the months,

in a slow blur, around our planet. I have been greatly loved,

I will cherish it forever.

my mother has given me still.

I will walk in glowing, I will talk to her when I can,

and then, when I'm fast asleep, She is wishing I

was back at home and in my room again,

behind that door!

my mother, the woman who raised me, who showed

me how to love.