How did I not notice
glories going by,
blossoms tossed 
into heaps of weeds?

What to keep?
What to shed ?
Heirloom?  Foraged?
     
Down rows, through
vines and brambles,

my mother knew:

take only what you need.

There was a time,
chamomile mowed down,
a breeze light
with its scent.

My mother, too,
was once
young and tender.

© 2012 Mary Bonina

Caitlin McCarville - Soprano
James Rosamilia - Cello
Elizabeth Chladil - Piano

For more information on the artists please visit:
www.paulsayed.com
www.caitlinmccarville.com
www.marybonina.com
www.elizabethchladil.com 

Grace In The Wind, part i

Paul Sayed