it is early september
and the afternoon light

already carries
an autumnal bend

red and gold
begin to pulse

and unfold
this morning

a hawk rippled
in celebratory circles

and the last of the wildflowers
listed toward the seasonal sun

when        our quick wings slow
when        the toll of life is heavy

i was with my mother
the morning she died

and i held her hand
that was her final gift

to me

sometimes when i miss my mother
i feel for the pulse on the wrist of my wife
hers is steady and strong
  
waiting there
as my mother slowly slipped away
a nurse taught me how to find the pulse

in her final moments
when she stopped breathing
her heart ceased beating
and her pulse faded away
i felt it in my fingertips

so now

sometimes when i miss my mother
i feel for the pulse on the wrist of my wife
hers is steady and strong  
and i know exactly where to find it