First Spring Without You, Mother
After our harsh Maryland winter, I drive around
the lakes of Homeland: Houdini-like, daffodils peek
yellow from the bank; two Canada geese drift
princely on the water-lily pool (they mate
for life, they say); I showed you the same two geese
last Spring on one of our last outings from
your nursing home: how much "nursing", how much "home"?
Were draconian measures really on the table? Would I really
have smothered you, Mother? I considered driving us both
into Loch Raven to escape the rising tide
of medical bills; finally, instead, the splendid release
and pain of your death -- God's golden handshake!
Christopher T. George