WINDFLOWERS FOR ISABEL
Windflowers
delicate as your kiss,
bright as your smile
when I cradled you to my breast,
are gathered for your delight,
my daughter.
Their petals scatter like our dreams
as your daughter lifts them
crushed in a tight fist
for your approval.
Mary Macdonald
THE TEENAGE YEARS
My son’s in his teenage years
A time of bliss; a time of tears
’cause teens demand complete attention…
and the house is always filled with tension…
We’re both angry – there’s no doubt
We really need to talk things out…
It seems so senseless, now, today,
(Whose fault was it anyway?)
Pots and pans, full to the brink
glare at me from the kitchen sink…
Another row, another cry
As I get into bed I sigh –
Please turn the clock back for me
to those days filled with fun and glee
Smiling and laughing once again
Instead of thinking each a pain!
He walks into the room, gives me a smile
and yes, that makes it all worthwhile.
HARVEST
She lives on the edge
of a vast plain and waits
for her child to return
from rambling
Days slump into weeks
She gathers in the wind
to chuckle when she sighs
moonlight to soften her torment
She steals Autumn’s treasures
as Winter glides over pond and thicket
tracing bare branches like nerves
on a grey matter-of-fact sky
Her passion warms secret corners
staining the table cloth
with wildberry juice
plumping fruit on window-sills
Bottled sun threads green stems
into her sampler
lights the flowers she paints
before their colours fade
Jennifer Chrystie