Mother dug the brown earth for the tender seedlings to grow and mature.
|I remember Mother, and the brown earth in the backyard:
I can just see her wrinkled fingers that dug the earth,
The drops of shiny perspiration that formed on her brow,
The meticulous way she prepared to plant tiny seeds,
The big smile on her face as she thought of tomorrow,
The twinkles in her eyes.
I recall the footprints she left upon the green earth:
The marks of her wrinkled fingers that softened the earth,
The aged tears that fell upon the earth as she hummed,
The look of dismay the day after her seeds were scattered,
The anger in her eyes as she mourned the dying seeds,
The picture of Mother as she re-worked the green earth.
I remember Mother's determination as she re-dug the earth:
Magically, she turned the brown earth into a splash of green,
Smilingly, she replanted the tiny seeds with a caring touch,
Joyfully, she gathered branches she turned into a fence,
Heartily, she surveyed and admired her green earth,
Lovingly, she whispered a prayer for her seeds to grow.
I can still see Mother as she stood guard by the window:
As with an assured look in her eyes she whispered a tune,
Most likely it was a lullaby she sang to me as a babe,
As with a splash of smile she recalled a babe in a cot,
Asleep soundly, wrapped with a flowered blanket of green,
A little girl who smiled and breathed deeply in her sleep.
Day by day and each and every time during the night:
Mother watched, prayed and sang little tunes of old,
She monitored her growing vegetable garden,
She wattered the patch of earth that began to grow,
She lingered daily and each night, by the window,
She was comforted to watch the growing seeds.
Then came the day when Mother was most happy:
Her brown earth flowered into green, leafy plants,
Her eyes smiled as she touched the teeny fruits,
Her dream of green, yellow and red bananas,
Became a story to tell the whole,wide world,
A tale of healthy looking, ripening bananas.
Then one day Mother gathered the family together:
Assured of one son, one daughter, and her spouse,
She brought smiles to each and every one of us,
As well as a hunger for the taste of ripened fruit,
Like the sweet, yellow bananas, aglow with pride,
Gave each family member a taste of goodness.
It was a wonderful day of merry celebration for Mother:
Of her love of the brown earth she turned into green,
Of the patience of waiting as the seedlings grew,
Of the unenviable growth of seeds into plants,
Of the prospect of picking bananas that yellowed
Into a golden, soft and edible fruit for the soul.