This is a bit of a departure for the Wetland blog - poetry. July was my mother's month. Not only was it the month of her birth, it was also her favourite time of the year. She loved the sun, the warmth and revelled in the return of the foliage, the fauna and her feathered friends.
This is my tribute to her, remembering and missing her this July, Marion Terry White, July 25, 1931 - March 5, 2015.
July
On these
summer mornings
so lush and
achingly
lovely, wrapped in their hazy veils
heavy-lidded
in the slumbering heat
fleeting and
therefore precious
I often
think that my mother is still alive
somewhere
tending her
garden
bending over
the bedding plants
parting the
shrubbery with her hands
watchful,
vigilant, protective
or listening
at the open window
a joy rising
in her to see the birds
take wing
thrilling at
the wren’s song
watching the
hummingbirds
sup,
stroking the dog’s head
slowly all
the while
he, faithful
and adoring at her side
she, taking it all in – the bumblebees in the
black-eyed-susans
the cicadas
in the trees
I almost
expect to hear the phone ring
the excited
voice, telling me some tale
about her
day – the strawberries washed and sugared
the peonies clipped
the dog
walked and oh, I saw a deer!
How are you? What are you up to today?
What are you working on?
Today I am
working on remembering
today that
is my job, my sole task
all others I
sweep impatiently aside
so that I
may stay with these memories
and revive
summers past
a vain
attempt, I know, to make it real again
to somehow
give her
one more
summer day.
©Victoria
White, July 7, 2016
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