perhaps because
it is Autumn
I think of my mother

the season when
her last illness
began many years ago
and the trees
outside her hospital
window

I read to her
from the Psalms
and poets she would
know from long ago
and new poets too

most of all
I remember her faith
and unconditional love
that is with me still

From the Psalms:

Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty:
neither do I exercise myself in great matters,
or in things too high for me.

Surely I have behaved and quieted myself,
as a child that is weaned of his mother:
my soul is even as a weaned child.

Psalm 131: 1 – 2