there is even joy
isn't there
in the last light
as it touches the points
of every picket along the fence

Just received word this week that this poem, published in the Summer 2008 issue of Ribbons, has been chosen as the "Member's Choice Tanka" to be published in the Autumn 2008 issue of Ribbons.

Surprised, elated, honored.

Thank you to Bob Lucky, the previous winner, for distinguishing my poem out of the 50 that were published in this issue's Tanka Cafe under the theme "epiphany."

my mother content
to just sit inside waiting
on death
as leaves on all the trees
turn their brilliant royal shades


My mother has my entire life been both my biggest inspiration and my biggest supporter.

If I had to use words to describe the woman I think she has been in this world (not just words a daughter uses to describe a mother), I would use words like "strong" and "tough" and "courageous"; maybe "individual", "energetic" and "athletic"; "persevering", "generous" and "philanthropic". My mother has survived wars, an alcoholic first marriage, divorce before it was accepted, cancer twice and some other ugly experiences we'll leave alone. When I think of her from my childhood, I remember her as someone who took in strays (both animals and people), tended to geraniums and rose bushes like she did children, walked through blizzards to get to work, read stacks and stacks of books and wore whatever she wanted and looked great doing it.

My mother is not dying any more than we are all dying; it's more that she has given up and in some ways that is even more painful for a daughter who has been completely enamored with her. Active well into her seventies, my mother ran before the sun came up every morning, in every weather, but within the last 5 years, her legs have become crippled and she has a tough time even walking about the house, which now she has confined herself to. She lives downstairs from me so I often visit and try to bring my world to her; we discuss politics, my job, the weather, books and my father's grocery shopping mishaps. Mostly, I am trying to bring her out of the darkness of discouragement that comes with old age and its physical decline.

But it is difficult. I want her to experience life. I want her to find a way to embrace these late days in her life; I want her to put on her own royal colors. I want her to find joy in simply being.