Mothers Day (tomorrow in New Zealand) is always special to me. I am so proud to be a mother, and so very grateful.  I wrote this poem today.

My daughter’s bedside, 3am

You are far away, somewhere mothers cannot follow.

But I am near; so near your breath is my blanket.

It won’t be long until the birds’ busy chatter

will banish solemnity, staccato notes bubbling and then bursting

into a dawn symphony.

Are you dreaming of the tiny sparrow stuck

in the supermarket yesterday

delirious with fear,

its avian heart nearly bursting

from its frantic feathers?

Or of the tenderness of the giant butcher

as he trapped it gently in the frozen foods aisle,

bypassed the check-out and sent it soaring

into a grateful sky?

Listen to your mother’s 3am lullaby:

As I slip back to sleep

your face will be the last thing I see,

your song the last thing I hear,

and your heart the last little thing

I will clutch

then set free.


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