Mama’s Walking Stick

Where wild abounds and nature calls
a trail winds through a gentle wood,
along a stream then to small falls,
where she met him, and love was good.
For hours they’d pass fair days away
while I reclined by tree and dozed,
but all’s not lost, that is to say,
‘cause I still go where Mama goes.

Let spring awake with brand new face,
when flowered fields spread ’cross the land.
It’s off we go to gentle space,
he’s on her mind, I’m in her hand.
Wisteria wafts on scented breeze,
she breathes a sigh, as if she knows
I’m by her side, her mind’s at ease,
‘cause I still go where Mama goes.

When summer rains drip from the sky
or chilly winds herd wispy clouds,
we still will walk, though not as spry,
where nature takes the place of crowds.
Those trails, well-worn, will always be
a place where she can recompose,
when moments set her senses free,
and I still go where Mama goes.

© 2022 Joy A. Burki-Watson