Poetry Friday: A Mother Poem

Happy Poetry Friday everyone! Today I am covering another topic that I've wanted to for ages but found intimidating: a mother poem. Just like love poetry it is so hard to not end up sound syrupy or fake, a plastic shell of an intended sentiment instead of a personal, glinting bit of type. Happy Mother's Day to all my sisters, grandmothers, aunts, cousins, and sweet boo boo kissing friends! The thankless job we're doing everyday is the kind of thing only the beauty of tiny human lives can be created from. xoxo and "Keep on!"

My parents.

My mom, on the shores of Lake Michigan, one of her favorite places.

Maternal Society

My mother took all her children to hunt the wild blackberry
Her trick: velvet maple leaves covering the open holed corners,
Cleverly locking the heaped, glistening purple deposit within.
She could fearlessly pluck the vicious vines about the waist and swing
Them like nodding, barbed, construction cranes to hook wherever she chose.
So, we walked trustingly behind her through the briar patch, on dry land,
A wall of canes and thorns on either side that could not touch us.
As long as we closely followed the floating knot of her upswept hair.
She dug wild bluebells from the roadside to fill her barren garden
Carrying a spade in the trunk and chinking wedges of hardy native beauty
Off for herself, a bit of hope carried home in a five gallon bucket.
She plunked them into beds of hostile, red clay, gummy under the nails,
Then knowingly layered them with leaves and manure year upon year
Until the clay caved and became soft devil's food between her fingers,
The soil, host to a merry, marching army of bluebells and their kin
Tumbling eagerly as she instructed: to the very stone borders of gardendom.
She taught me how to hold a chef knife, intimately, by its silver haunches
As though I had no fear and owned its sharp power, then rocking fluidly  
The blade licking the cutting board with a steady knocking whir
The same rythmn as her sewing machine, thumping energetically along,
Her needle a miniature late night beacon in the back of our log house
Flashing updates to the moon about whatever she was lashing together
For her daughters while we slept: a dream, a dress, a doxology.

A younger version of my mom with my only brother as a tot.

Mama, winter portrait.

Visit the Poetry Friday host for more delicious poems.

Miq The Fairytale Genius

So, I've mentioned before that A has this brother, Miq who is utterly splendiferous in his own right and is married to the equally wonderful Penny. Lately, one of the big events in our extended family has been Uncle Miq's deployment to Iraq. (Ru is very impressed) All of us have been watching Facebook for the little updates he throws Stateside and doing what we can to stay in touch with Penny and their daughters. His little girls who are my boys cousins are now down to just one utterly fabulous parent which, is not as bad as it might be but, is obviously far less than ideal. We're all thinking of them often and watching (as much as you can watch when they live in Germany and we all live on this side of the pond) and wishing them all the very best.

But that Miq is a clever one. Never the type to sit on his hands mournfully in the middle of all that burning sand...he's been dreaming up one of the most creative and lovely daddy gifts I've ever seen. Sandstorms must be good for the imagination. He's been writing (from scratch mind you) lavish, bedtime fairytales for his daughters and recording himself telling them. If they half as big a hit with his daughters as they are with my sons, his special stories will never be forgotten in family lore.

At our house, we play them over and over and over.

So far, there are two installments...but, I expect there are more forthcoming. How many more? Heaven only knows...but, every one is a gem and whatever arrives we'll all rejoice.

I'm toying with sketching up some watercolor illustrations of Aclaircy's adventures. They're such beautifully imaginative stories, I'd have fun creating visuals.

Without further ado folks....The Amazing Uncle Miq:





Much love to you Miq as you wait and work and while away the days and days and days. We're rooting for you!