Wearied by her day’s long work, <br />She finally draws away <br />And prepares for rest. <br />She looks onward as her <br />Hands become still—Sunlight <br />Is falling through the window, <br />From which she can see her <br />Children coming towards her, <br />Their baskets overflowing from the crops <br />She has planted for them, <br />Now come to harvest. <br />Though just silhouettes moving <br />Amidst the falling light, <br />She recognizes each of them, <br />And calls them home to her. <br />Though weary and unable to <br />Do more, her only wish is <br />To carry their burdens for them. <br />She does not think pridefully <br />Upon her work, now completed, <br />Her life spread out before her, <br />A blanket in which each thread is a <br />Single moment, woven together <br />The tapestry of her life she has <br />Given to shelter and warmth for others. <br />Before she goes to rest, <br />She will use it this final night <br />To keep her children warm. <br />So after her sun sets, <br />She warms them still, <br />Her kind words and actions <br />Lightening their thoughts and <br />Lifting their burdens <br />So that she remains always with them, <br />A gentle song sung in their hearts, <br />Mothering them still, sustaining their souls <br />Until, with the morning, <br />The meadow reawakens <br />And springs to glorious life.<br /><br />Robert Rorabeck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/grandmother-10/
