thinking of my
mother sliding through the
dappled light, on her way to
at the pond to
listen to the frogs sing.
Every spring the same story, every
The poem was written while enroute from Halifax to Calgary, over Saskatchewan, then posted in Calgary, while waiting for a flight to Victoria. (Kudos to free wifi services in airports. Thank you!)
Photos were taken in or near St. Paris, Ohio, where my parents live.