Mother in the Garden

Remembering my mother's garden


She sat on a chair and held the gushing hose for her rock garden,

The rocks she had gathered over time and carefully aligned

Were holding back the earth...at least mostly.

While I spooned mud in cookie  pans, hard at play,

Shaping my slippery cakes of mud and clay, 

Me, so proud of them.

She pondered the coal bill now past due...

How much for the milkman? How much for the light?

How much for the meal we'd eat that night?

My mud-cake pans full, I walked to her and asked, 

"What is that red flower called?"

"A calla lily, June, my favorite."

The petals looked like fiery tongues to me 

Like they'd grown in my fairy tales tempestuously

Scarlet petals a bit darkened, somewhat

wrinkled at their rims,

But its foliage and tall stems provided sturdy limbs

That set it apart.

Mom watered and watered. The air was fragrant with the smell of wet earth and blossom.

And there was dream in her eyes.

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Susan Richardson June 08, 2012 at 10:55 PM
Wish for that time again, playing in the backyard, chasing fireflies and watching the garden grow. Your poem sings of your moms nurturing wisdom and the love for her daughter.
june luvisi June 09, 2012 at 01:03 AM
Your comment is so appreciated. I think writing the poem brought back a memory I've had in the back of my mind for years and to think it has a therapeutic effect is very gratifying.
Jennifer June 09, 2012 at 01:11 AM
Wow, this post really stirs the emotions with great imagery!
William George June 09, 2012 at 01:12 AM
Boy, this post really stimulates imagery and emotions....beautiful!
june luvisi June 09, 2012 at 01:13 AM
I wasn't thinking of trying to communicate these emotions, just trying to recreate a scene from so many years ago. It's soul satisfying to hear your impressions.


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