In Another Place, Mother
In another place, I might better know why,
and though photos fade and the memory of my own first meeting with you
knows no shape, light, or even shadow,
the deep gravity of emotion and well of left-over hope has beckoned me toward your kind,
and similar sapphire-blue eyes.
I recognized the sense of love and possibility in her.
It becomes you;
this transition toward efforts like yours and
a better understanding of love like yours,
having begotten children (not unlike yours),
you are all the more a beauty-
as that word flourishes like butter and honey
within the mouth of an admirer.
The circle weaves sometimes frenetically and always intentionally closer,
Grandparent, Parent, Child, Grandchild;
as the sky and earth begets rhubarb, corn, dark mulch and the blessed cycle of water.
This relationship, though not without effort,
has good, solid promise and
a future in the seed you’ve cast and nurtured, Mother,
another deep gravity of emotion and well of hope within us.
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