Mother tends to blooms as she has done <br />for as long as I am able to recall. <br />She stands, supported by prosthetic knees, <br />the heat of August heavy on her brow. <br />I want to call her in, afraid the sun <br />will cause a stroke. I think of last year's fall, <br />how she lost her balance trimming trees. <br />I try to call her in, but by a row <br />of roses, she cannot quite hear or see. <br />I hurry down the potted back porch stairs, <br />past the plum-stained bench and phlox-filled tins. <br />Transfixed, one foot into eternity, <br />one foot upon the earth, she turns and grins, <br />her blue eyes brilliant and beyond my cares.<br /><br />Leo Yankevich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mother-in-the-garden/
