On this Solemnity of Mary, the Holy Mother of God, a poem…
It begins in the bitter cold
Even if that’s not the time to have a baby
Small matter
The world is barren
But she ignores that fact
A child is born
And all is mystery
In the dead of winter
A child is born
And all is mystery
In the dead of winter
Spring flows out of what lay dormant
As the ice breaks and the river moves
Buds explode with color and life
A child grows
She carries joy on her shoulder
Cuddles love in her arms
Summer brings long days
Sometimes too long
And she loses sight of the gift
Time to find mercy within
To reveal that to the child
Time is fleeting but that fact
can be forgotten in the heat and light
The leaves turn
And there is color again
In the leaves before they fall
She finds beauty in the ending
And gratitude as the mother
Who keeps each memory
Of every season
“Ponders them in her heart”
She finds beauty in the ending
And gratitude as the mother
Who keeps each memory
Of every season
“Ponders them in her heart”
Seasons perpetually revolve
Evolve
The mother continually loves
Remembers reflects
Gives thanks for them all
What’s past
What will be
Drowning in Lemonade 