1965
My mother is
That warm moment-
Just before dusk,
When pollen becomes smooth like butter
From fresh spring rains coloured in the
mid-May petals that 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.