her words (my mother's poetry MJF)

my mother has the prettiest tricks
of words and words and words
her talk comes out as smooth and sleek
as breasts of singing birds

she shapes her speech all silver fine
because she loves it so
and her own eyes begin to shine
to hear her stories grow

if she goes to make a call
or out to take a walk
we leave our work when she returns
and run to hear her talk

we had not dreamed these things were so
of sorrow and of mirth
her speech is as a thousand eyes
through which we see the earth

God wove a web of loveliness
of clouds and stars and birds
but made not anything at all
so beautiful as words

they shine around our simple earth
with golden shadowings
and every common thing they touch
is exquisite with wings

there's nothing poor and nothing small
but is made fair with them
they are the hands of living faith
that touch the garment's hem

they are as fair as bloom on air
they shine like any star
and i am rich who learned from her
how beautiful they are
Poetry by M.J.B. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License