A poetry memoir
Lazy Saturday filled with talks, dogs, hours
moving sunlight
announcing blooms
It is spring on our land after all
Which mums to move
and herbs to weed
New raspberry
What course to take
I am her, and she is me
and as she ages,
I must too.
The willow’s grown
Will we have peaches this year?
That is always the hope,
she says.
Attempting to bring the horses down
I’m in no hurry,she says, are you?
Suddenly everything
is tears
and I don’t know why —
but I do
She calls me to come see
a mouse grown fat
safe under the grain bucket
I am frozen —
flip flops, rutty earth
salt spring, jasmine
my mother’s voice,
calling the horse
the small visitor
April wind —
I see it all
this moment how precious.
And she tells me to not be
afraid of the mouse.
We both laugh again
pretending that is
what I see.
© Samantha Lazar 2019
Originally published here.
Samantha Lazar, Writer 