1965
My mother is
Those warm moments just before dusk
When pollen becomes smooth like butter
From fresh spring rains coloured in the
mid-May showers that fresh blossoms scatter
Where the air and the sky
become alive with the movement of
Those things with wings:
Magpies in twos, fives, and sixes-
tracks in the sky-
glittering streaks,
Like pearls of pebbles;
iridescent
where the waves kiss the shore.