perhaps because
it is Autumn
I think of my mother
the season when
her last illness
began many years ago
and the trees
outside her hospital
window
I read to her
from the Psalms
and poets she would
know from long ago
and new poets too
most of all
I remember her faith
and unconditional love
that is with me still
From the Psalms:
Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty:
neither do I exercise myself in great matters,
or in things too high for me.
Surely I have behaved and quieted myself,
as a child that is weaned of his mother:
my soul is even as a weaned child.
Psalm 131: 1 – 2
