For Anne in her 50th year
It was our time. A nascent time. To set you in motion, I took long walks. Spring warmth and an aching back. Fields frothed with cow parsley. Under lace canopies, new calves the colour of clotted cream, their mothers on stand by, content, barely bothered by flies. Just the occasional tail swish and some low rumination from the herd. Dewponds in recession. Damsel and Mayfly emerging in dazzling, darting clouds of maiden flights. It was your turn then. Contracted to move but then like a false Spring turning back, to linger on the edge of the womb, anchored, at bay. Hesitant to discard what you'd nearly outgrown. Me holding you there as keepsake. And so the calendar days of May turned over and over until that one torn page. A rather bloody ritual, a begrudging birth, not long before the month was out, when a fierce summer sun had already broken through. Yet afterwards you lay so serene with a dark fuzz of hair; the kind that bleaches and cools to ash.
For Grace’s Poetics prompt “False Spring” and my attempt to write some prose poetry.
PoetryPix 
This writing pierces my heart as I have experienced such pain before. This part just hits me: Me holding you there as keepsake. A rather bloody ritual. An experience that is life changing in all the ways.
thank you Grace and for the prompt which gave this birth an airing
As a mother of a daughter, this prose poem resonates with me, Laura, and it’s such a lovely poem from a mother to a daughter. I love all the nuances, from the ‘fields frothed with cow parsley’ and ‘new calves the colour of clotted cream’ to the ‘Damsel and Mayfly emerging in dazzling, darting clouds of maiden flights’. But oh, the false spring lingering on the edge of the womb’ – I had a few of them.
thank you Kim – that May was such a lovely month to be born but I do wonder if as mother I kept my daughter 2 weeks longer than I ought
a very touching remembrance
much love
much appreciation to you Gillena
What a fabulous poem. I could imagine you walking around trying to get things moving. The cow parsley, the cows, the false spring..
thanks Jude for your kind words
holy moly laura this one…. the pastoral beginning the delay of the inevitable, finally the gift. just a stunning write
This is such a great poem! I love the imagery of the cows and pasture Just the occasional tail swish and some low rumination from the herd. Dewponds in recession. Damsel and Mayfly emerging…
Great job!.