An ode to my mother
On the occasion of being late for Mothers' Day*
You're my favourite mix of the everyday and the sublime
The everyday is your banana, cereal and toast for breakfast
Complete with the clinking as you work
At spooning up the pattern off the bowl
The everyday is your walk, ride and run for the farm
Complete with the swishing as you haul
My horse's cover through the grass
The everyday is your laugh, rise and fall for conversation
Complete with the echo as you take
The telephone into the bathroom
The everyday is the pipe, water and spray for hydration
Complete with pattering as you hose
The latest crop from your garden
The everyday is your ticket, scratchie and numbers for the win
Complete with the exclamations as you record
The win or loss from the paper
The everyday is your brush, finger-comb and pat for the mirror
Complete with squelching as you rub
A new product in your hair
The everyday is your trowel, weeds and barrow for the beds
Complete with skittering thumps as you whack
The soil off the roots
The everyday is your book, biography and crossword for the couch
Complete with the reviews as you give
A copy to me for my enjoyment
The everyday is your pride, love and joy for your daughters
Complete with the smiles that you wear
As you joke about our competence
The sublime
Is in the everyday
For me
*Flowers and telephone call both arrived late. Sigh. She forgave me. I think.
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