A SONNET FOR MOTHER’S DAY

A gateway to creation, and window
To the world, and maker of each nation
With a pearling magic swirled, yet also
Very everyday; not with fad’s sensation
Or money-maker’s art; not by conquest
Though very much by heart; very much by
Caring much, and seeing what is best
And forgiving what is worst, breeds a sigh
And quenches thirst; makes a sanctuary
For the smallest, helpless ones; makes a peak
Where peace for miles and miles and miles you see…
…And what is this wonder of which I speak?

Not religion, which can be smothering,
But God manifest, and called, “mothering.”

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