Certainty

Mother was unerringly certain.
You could bottle her opinions
and sell them at a profit.
Or so she believed.



Points on a compass
and magnetic north.
Now that she's gone,
where is my center,
how do I find my way?

I never knew my father,
never truly knew him,
and he died so long ago.

Empty nests in barren trees,
cold rain on the windowpane.

Christopher T. George