“How I loved those spiky suns,
rooted stubborn as childhood
in the grass, tough as the farmer’s
big-headed children—the mats
of yellow hair, the bowl-cut fringe.
How sturdy they were and how
slowly they turned themselves
into galaxies, domes of ghost stars
barely visible by day, pale
cerebrums clinging to life
on tough green stems.   Like you.
Like you, in the end.   If you were here,
I’d pluck this trembling globe to show
how beautiful a thing can be
a breath will tear away.”

“A dandelion for my My Mother” ~ Jean Nordhaus ~
~ for all of us whose mothers are struggling in their end of days

[Mothering] Sunday Sayings – A pick from the poets, writers or scriptures to match the photo