Mother

When mother you meet
you say something sweet and give her
a hug and a kiss, yes?
She birthed you and raised you,
chastised and praised you,
she always assumed you’d be best.

Distant or nigh, your mother
still sighs as she thinks of you
there by her breast,
when you were her darling, her
baby, a starling who flew,
oh so soon, from her nest.

Though you have moved on your
mother still longs, when she sees
the sun fade in the west,
to hoist you in love like the
wind ‘neath a dove lifts its wing
as it flies to its rest.

Consider your mother, the woman
who’d rather be laughed at and
told she’s a mess than to
look, but not see you,
hold, but not free you or
keep you from making your quest.