Tuesday, May 10, 2016

Love & Dreams (My Mother's Day Poem, 2016)



I struggle still
to speak each of their languages.

You’d think I’d have it
down by now

for each work in progress,
each work of art--

the one who loves the center,
works with his hands, dreams and speaks in fantasy;

the one who is soft-spoken,
athletic, dependable;

the one who is outside the box,
surprising, hilarious;

the one who is competitive, but tender,
and memorizes more than I’ve ever remembered.

All of them, in the way sons
have a heart for their mothers,

have given me more,
times four, to love

and to dream of
than what I could have alone.


© 2016 Jennifer Wagner


“C’mon, guys, it’s the least we can do--we walked out of her stomach and stepped on her dreams.”  --words of my eldest son to his brothers after I asked them to pose for a photo they were less than thrilled to pose for.  I laughed so hard.

Monday, May 2, 2016

Season of Innocence/sense(s)






Today smells like new lilacs
and the warm redbrick
of the library baking slightly
in the springtime glow.

Today looks like my smiling-eyed son
toting a stack of books,
the pep and hop
of his bright, young step next to mine.

Today sounds like the train,
always going somewhere, like we are,
even when standing still.

Today feels like that moment
I recognize
I’ll have only once

--and tastes
like goodnight
on the lips
of a season

better than summer,
innocent and golden.


© 2016 Jennifer Wagner