Mother

In snapshot depictions
of our family's life, I see
so much reading:
Grandpa and The Roly-Poly Pudding,
The Hobbit and my dad.
My sister reads to me. I read to my brother.
The one who does not appear to read
is Mom--who read us a chapter
every evening, year upon year, unremarkable
as a hug goodnight.


Also, she was behind the camera.

Mary Oliver's "Morning Poem"

I'm posting this lovely poem by Mary Oliver because I needed to recall a little beauty tonight . . . perhaps it may cheer you, too.