a box of strawberries
her unruly brown halo
bounces in the wind as she bustles
the groceries into the house.
limbs tired from exertion, she sinks
into a chair and asks me to bring...
the box--a wondrous vessel!
full of speckled plump strawberries
she dips them in fluffy white powder,
juice drips from the corner
of her munching mouth.
i sit gazing at her... she offers me one
i quickly take a bite and swipe
the sweet sticky liquid from my chine.
for a moment,
tasting the aroma of love,
berry sweet and pure as powdered sugar.
the strawberries have disappeared.
energy renewed, having had a respite,
she again takes up her rags
and her Pledge,
trudges almost hesitantly to the dining room
and circles the dust from the table.
--Tammy Payne, Spring '93
dedicated to my Mom