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
am overwhelmed Eric – thank you!
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!.
many thanks for picking out so many parts that your appreciated
The creation of new life can have many false starts. Those last days before birth stretch out forever–and then time begins anew. (K)
indeed – and 50 years later too
So honestly and beautifully written – the rich imagery seems to make the ‘subject’ all the more poignant – Jae
thank you Jae – tried to make the imagery as vividly real as I remember
I am a May child too so your beautiful prose poem spoke to me. When I was expecting my kids, my doctor told me that babies come when they have to. Don’t let that twinge of regret mar all the gorgeous things you remember of that May. Truly lovely, Laura.
yes it did make me wonder and regret the delay so thank you for your insight and very kind words of praise
You are welcome, Laura.