To Mother

The end of a wonderful Mother's Day brings a few quiet moments to reflect, remember and be grateful. Alas, end-of-the-day also means the post is a bit tardy, but, sincere nonetheless. What I've been intending to share the best part of the week is a little poem called "To Mother." It goes like this: There's a sampler that is woven by a hand that is divine. And it spells the name of MOTHER in true colors, deep and fine. Time can never dim the stitches that are wrought with gentle art. For unfading are the letters on the canvas of my heart. Someday, perhaps, we'll chart it along with the accompanying graphics. Until then, may you appreciate the gentle art of motherhood. (P.S. The flowers are blooming on a bush next to our back door, Vickie & Norma Jean, REAL desserts from today's brunch.)