RETURN

Photo by S. Auberle

Looked out the window at dawn today to see a doe racing down the road. Pursued? Or just running for the sheer joy of it, because she can, because she is young and swift and beautiful. This age I am entering is not that anymore but now, I hope, is the time of deeper, slower, sweeter pleasures...

Like this:

DRYING MY HAIR IN THE SUN

Strands dance in the wind

over my sun-warmed shoulders.

I watch a squirrel rifling the bird feeder

listen to the cry of a gull

translucent above me

touch falling tulip petals

as their season ends.

How many more spring times,

we begin to wonder,

will we be allowed

and do we return again

and again like this

chorus of red flowers

beside my door

like these clouds of cherry blossoms,

this blue sea of forget-me-nots?

How many Mother's Days left to me,

my children swirling

in my heart--their cares,

their lives, their burdens, yes,

and how many more years

to relearn small pleasures

like drying my hair in the sun,

its shawl of gold and silver threads

spun just for me.

- mimi