Saturday, April 27, 2013

Every spring, hope

I am
thinking of my
mother sliding through the
dappled light, on her way to

She stops
at the pond to
listen to the frogs sing.
Every spring the same story, every
spring, hope.

This poem is composed in cinquains, five line syllabic stanzas that follow a rule in which the first line has two syllables; the second, four; the third, six; the fourth, eight; and the final line has, again, two syllables.

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.


  1. I like this poem with its strict number of syllables per line. I like its form and I really like its image. Your mother will like it too.

    xo Mary

  2. Thank you! She did! This is my mother in so many ways--always attuned to the small glorious things in the world that matter. Writing poetry helps me to be more like her, to cultivate such attentiveness, such pleasure in small things. xx k