NaPoWriMo 15 – the middle one

As far as we’ll go.

It’s the middle of spring
and my mother is turning
into a bird. I’m a little afraid
that the wind up here
will send her sailing away
like a kite, but she’s smiling.
This is as far as we’ll go:
there’s a bench, where
my parents can sit
and soak in the sun.
The kids are roaming,
a little bit aimless,
crushing the spring grass
that’s studded with stitchwort
and bluebells. We walked here
through cloud after cloud
of blackthorn, but this
is as far as we’ll go.
We’re so high, and
down in the bay
the water is bluer
than blue, and sparkling,
catching the sunlight –
sunshine in April –
always a blessing –
and a smooth shape
breaks through the waves,
a porpoise is playing.
But this is as far as we’ll go.

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