Dear Mother, Poem by Mary Gangemi

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Dear Mother

by Merry Gangemi

It is seven a.m. and snowing
A barred owl scowls in the naked maple and the
booming crack of a white pine breaks the shadow
of a crow skimming the hollow sky.

Standing in the doorway
steaming mug of tea in my hand
I am remembering.

It is four p.m. and windy
The wood stove is ravenous
the tail of its vapor streams downwind.

I am too tired to pull on my boots.

It is nine p.m. I think of calling you
How’s Father? I would ask
Still sleeping his days away?

I felled twenty saplings last week
and hauled them to the brush pile
Branches etch the most mystical marks
when dragged over the surface of snow.

I think of you again
It would be so comforting
to have you see how I live now.

It is two a.m.
I have finished thinking
I have written this down for you
I have finished my tea and rinsed the cup
I will pull on my boots one last time.

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