father shined his shoes
we ironed handkerchiefs
by the dozen shirt collars
underwear so white and loose
child noise song not allowed
we did not know he missed being
artist bad boy free
sole beloved of his woman
now mothering too many
his own left too soon
the boy to hurt forever
to pass that truth along
as best he could

The Mother’s Song

under the
horse-chestnut tree
in the shade
with my little darling
are the loveliest moments
Laugh aloud
sweet angel
Wave those arms
like you’d fly like a bee
in the open
Darling of my life
this moment
will always be in my mind
like a coin closed tight
in a pauper’s palm



The Child, now an adult, remembers the Mother’s Song**

there were days
those were the days
when my mum held me in her arms
under the
horse-chestnut tree
in the shade
and there she sang me her songs
and whispered me her gentle words
and held me close to her radiant face
Those were the days,
that the time,
when my mother’s voice
filled the space
and my being
under the
horse-chestnut tree
in the shade

Spirit, please plug her
in the Celestial Charger;
I've drained her again.

Each fear is a dove,
a homing pigeon released
in care of Spirit,