Can it be, that all these moons have passed
through so many seasons.
so much time between those nights
we sat beneath the pines towering into the darkness
sprinkled with stars like Christmas lights.
Huddled in a blanket,
I see you , rocking so slowly
the steam of your cup of tea
lifting, meandering in the icy air
through the pine needles and fir branches
that sheltered you, that held you so peacefully.
Content as a child in its mothers lap
with prayers on your lips, that I watched move
and never make a sound.
I saw you in the innocence of your spring
and the acceptance of autumn.
The hard cold of winter,
and slow bloom of gladiolus come summer.
I saw with the coming of snow
the tears that fell so quietly from your eyes
and I imagined, you beyond a mother or a wife.
I Pondered the dreams kept in your heart
the things you hoped and never saw.
The youth that left you without warning
and the age that came
with so much still to do, and so many limitations.
I see you, rocking, so slow,
beneath those pines at night
through all those seasons,
patient as a ponderosa
holding the weight of a winters snow,
bending but not breaking through every storm.
In my Autumn now, I see you still,
and miss you there, beneath the star lit evergreens, rocking slow.
And sometimes, now, at night I go, and sit beside you,
with cups of tea, and a blanket to huddle in,
and we rock, so slow,
as I quietly weep, like sap in spring,
to these familiar trees that bend to hear and brush the tears
away with gently swaying boughs,
that reach up to carry my message to you
across a winters sky of stars, and into your heart.
I love you, my precious mother, I love you.
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