Mom at the Cottage

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Oh Mother its early

You had quite a day

In yesterday’s driving

To pines far away

To blue-black waves lapping

To white-throats that sing

To summer with family

You’ll try anything.

And Dad would have snickered

To see you afloat

At eighty-eight years

At ease in Scott’s boat

The spray all around us

The sun t’ward the West.

And you hugging family.

The thing you like best.

Yes, Mother it’s early

But here I am too.

The sweet breeze has beckoned.

Just me, and just you.

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