July

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