Brothers, sister, nieces, nephews,
family, midsummer around a barbecue.
how many backyards over how many August days and summer years?
good to be to see to laugh to remember together
and i think there was welcome evidence of her twice or more, I do
the sighting of a certain fabric moving in gesture? a fragment of lasting laughter still moving in still air?
pulling away I look to the right, that seat, how many rides home from that very meeting?
and then she speaks, they’re all so tall and strong, so wise and funny, so good
they grow from your roots, I say, you walk in them
I tear, she smiles. It’s all alright she says. I look and she is perfectly composed.
are you tired, I offer. Never, any more.
how do you know, I glance over, that it will stay alright?
you can see it, is her only answer.
arriving I pause at the familiar address, where she lived. But she is more than home.
I face forward, fool, and weep. She leans over and gives a mother’s kiss.
One thought on “The Ride Home”
Quite beautiful, John!