Mowing the Lawn Ahead of the Rain

Mowing the lawn ahead of the rain
The sole of my favorite shoes gave way.

Thwappiting  underfoot,

The tattered rubber taunted me

With the news that these shoes were older than my grown child.

My palms blistered as I raced the storm

Fussing that they were once

Painter’s hands

And that a handshake from the fresh faced girl

I was long ago

Made the boys wide-eyed at the callous and muscle and bone.

These hands worked hard.

When did I buy these shoes?

Sometime after my first was born, facing the wrong way up,

Sauntering into this world after 44 hours

Trying to make up his mind.

Before my second, though, who never did anything before he was ready

Bursting out and into my arms after an hour and a half.

Two days or an hour, a labor of love.

This body worked hard.

Guess I don’t need these raggedy shoes

I’ll garden bare-foot and fearless

My fingers calloused for strings

Playing my own lullaby as the mother-me sleeps

(at last!)

And the crone roars awake.

Sarah Gowan - July 2014