Every morning when I was a girl
my mother would wake me
with song, the same lilting lyric
It’s going to be such a lovely day,
good morning, good morning I say.
It sounds too grand to call it ceremony,
and she would have appeared
an unlikely celebrant
in her bathrobe and slippers,
but she infused this daily ritual with prayer
and to this day I wake
certain that the world
will have beauty in it
and certain that I will find it—
this the most beautiful gift
any mother could give.
Posted by kind permission of Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer.
Now I understand that there are two melodies playing, one below the other, one easier…
Blackberries hang in the darkest creases of the trellis, each dimpled to bursting. The black-eyed…
Ankle-deep in saltwater, a man lifts a small Child and places her on his hip….
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