her chair

 

 

 

 

 

very sick, my mother spent the last few months of her life in a nursing home.  each time I’d visit I’d find her propped up in a chair by the nurse’s station.  one day I asked “what are you doing out here, mom?”

 

  “I’m waiting to buy my ticket,

so I can get on the train.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

prediction

 

 

The Farmer’s Almanac was his Bible

 

It was going to be a harsh winter

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

remembering

 

 

 

 

 

when she referred to this color as old-lady-blue

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

spill

 

 

 

 

 

summer in your house
the morning light poured in
spilling on the chenille
like warm milk

dishes clattering in the kitchen
as you made breakfast

 

 

 

 

 

no worries

 

 

 

 

 

I think about those days of barefeet, scraped knees, sunburns, mosquito bites and garden dirt…