Olive trees, north of Boston
Mute green buds,
maturing into flowers
Blanketed in frost

            Dipping my toes into the beginnings of      
                                                          mother­hood.

One sole tree and sharp shadows
Fruit the color of deep plum
crystalized in ice

                                    Decisions in motherhood.

In loving memory,
The Hanging Gardens of Babylon,

                                          A Daughters Eulogy