Wednesday, May 16, 2007


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:
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


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