When my mother arrived in Heaven
After her 93-year sojourn on Earth,
Angels fitted her with wings,
An honor rarely accorded human souls,
And of course she nearly wore them out
Hovering over her children and grandchildren.
Over some she fretted
And wondered what to do,
Her mother’s heart never giving up,
Her sadness flowing like great rivers in America.
Grieved and fluttering over a despairing form
She said, “Wake up! It’s a beautiful summer’s day.
You are young, that brief blessing,
For I was old much longer than young.”
She’s on the lookout for a passing saint,
St Jude no less,
But flies off to get in line for the Madonna.
There my mother stands, shifting from foot to foot.
At her side is her dog who has rejoined her,
Taking it all in and panting,
Just glad to be alive.

                                                                                                                     July 29th, 2011