Today's photo is just a sample ... a sip, if you will ... of the blossoms on the dogwood tree which graces the front lawn of Brimm Manor.
It seems to be outdoing itself this year ... and I take great comfort in its abundance ... its splendor ... the quiet beauty that it brings to those who pause to consider it.
But the poem ... I think I sometimes get in the way of the poem by talking too much about it, instead of letting it speak for itself.
It's a bad habit, I know, and I'm trying to break it.
Still, there are times when I feel that just a few more words are needed ... to set the stage for the poem ... to give it a bit more depth.
Let me just say that I was thinking about this poem when I woke up this morning.
As some of you know, I was reared by my grandparents. I learned early, I think, the meaning within the saying, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder."
There was a certain longing, a searching for explanations where there were none. I never knew, precisely, why I grew up with neither of my parents. I did have my grandparents at my side, though, guiding me, nudging me on, hoping I would turn out OK.
Through it all I tried to search out and cling to earliest memories ... of both my parents ... and I have some which have helped to sustain me through all these years.
Today's poem ... a Mother's Day poem, if you will ... deals with one of those early memories.
The poem:
MOTHER'S SONG
It was so long ago,
perhaps in a dream,
or certainly before I knew
the meanings of words,
but I felt the music
of her fine soprano voice
caressing, soothing me,
and how I wish I could
sing that same gentle
song back to her now,
saying softly, sweetly,
simply, I love you.
© 2000
(originally published in PKA's Advocate)
***
Today's word: soothing
Afterthoughts ... in response to your comments:
Thank you, Featheredpines, for the understanding demonstrated by your comment ... I am particularly taken by your last paragraph: "Especially comforting to those of us who have no one to call today" ... which makes me feel I have succeeded far beyond my own expectations. Continued best wishes.
1 comment:
I enjoy your commentaries :) Once, I wasvolunteering at a nature center canoe dock during a wildlife art event. I met a man who was also volunteering. He told me stories of being in the war, how he met his wife, about his family. At the end of our shift, he suddenly grew bashful and apologized for telling so many stories, how his family always teases him they've heard them a hundred times.
I told him I was happy he had shared them with me, please don't apologize. It is our memories and our stories that created our lives and made us who we are today. Sharing stories is giving a gift to others - that is how I see it!
What a tender, beautiful poem. Especially comforting for those of us who have no one to call today. Thank you.
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