• parenting,  poetry

    On Mother’s Day

    It is calm. Outside, a cool shower is freshening the world. The birds are quiet, Nesting over their young, Prioritizing protection over singing, over making themselves known. My own are upstairs, nestled in our bed, silent except for the gentle swell of their breathing. When they awake, the calmness will break, and a flourish of life will take its place. Today, I am to be recognized, for having given birth; for continuing on Eve’s legacy; for attemptingĀ to raise children who will somehow contribute sweetly to the great symphony of life. This duty, which is paradoxically both magnificent and mundane, cannot be fully appreciated by anyone who has not felt the…