Monday, June 20, 2005

Memories of Mother

I recall one winter, my mother on a whim,
took us to the city through the northern hills,
a lunch packed on the front seat, her
cigarettes on the dash.

And the dips in the road, the scene-stealers
that caught each one of us, lifting our bellies
through the season as mother passed over.

She laughed, drove faster and when another
awaited in the mist, we'd gasp and pause, like
moments one enters early morn, the forest

perhaps, or the faint climate just east of
the window: when reverberations die down,
no traffic, wind, no children at play-

that hush second, before it all rushes on.

5 comments to Cher:

ryan said...

is solemn as drifting
back a small piece of linen
and we both were
simply that.


you know i love this poem- dear beautiful voice.

miss you around. much.
-ryan

Cherilyn Ferroggiaro said...

I miss you too- had to get some other things done! You're such a great friend. xoxo

ryan said...

aw! thanks.

i have been trying v hard to keep the board moving for when you get back. make sure it is perfect.

a tough job! - believe me - when i say i understand how hard your job is...i am still only imagining

whew! need your lovely voice to help me out. although i understand if you need a breather - i will keep things going.

Cherilyn Ferroggiaro said...

Awwww...thank you so much! I'll be around a bit later. Hugs to you for being so superninjabadass!

ryan said...

*

if you see me around later - come say hi, lemme know what you have been up to

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