Mom seeking quiet
Hurried me outside:
Forgetting my shoes by the front closet,
Leaving my socks on the back porch
Through the screen door, then,
Running to the canopying maples
Just past the clustered pines,
Mom had things to do, but she gravitated towards
The double paned glass.
Star burning energy, glimpses of sensation:
Climbing high enough to see Robin’s nest,
It’s fluttering wings, perched on the twisted twigs,
Feeding its young.
I perched myself a time or two. Watching my dog, Nicky, chasing squirrels
Along the fence. Sometimes, seeing my mom through the branches.
In the crossing of brief moments,