The world’s a big place,
it can tucker you out
when you’re trying to figure
what it’s about.
That doesn’t change much
as we age through the years,
those grass blades of life
still up to our ears.
We still need a wing
for safe featherbed,
but sometimes we rest
on a memory instead.
I’m not a big fan of Mothers’ Day, dear reader. However, I am a fan of mothering because mothering gets us started in life.
There are many who are not biological mothers but are mothers nonetheless. I salute every one, and I wish a happy day to all who mother.
On a more (typical) curmudgeonly note: you know, dear reader, I hate these geese; I do not thrill to see another generation. It is only with pained reluctance I am forced to say this snoozing fuzzball is maybe a little bit cute.
Oddments 