Mom asks, “How’s your son?”
every time I visit now.
(I’ve never had one.)
She asks it loudly
sweetly crinkling eyes as if
she knows I’ll proudly
tell his latest news:
Timmy learned to stand today—
Tim can tie his shoes—
(or should he be Hugh?)
He’ll have dinner with you, Mom,
soon as soccer’s through—
A bike, a moped—
he grew before we knew it.
He’s thinking pre-med—
(Now I see him—Nick:
he’s shy, tall, wry, and enrapt
with geriatrics.)
He’s up for a Nobel!
Mom, every day Nick’s at work,
he’s wishing you well.
—Barbara Lydecker Crane
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Christian Ownership Maximalism
Christendom is gone. So, too, is much of the Western civilization that was built atop it. Christians…
Abandonment of Truth (ft. George Weigel)
In the latest installment of the ongoing interview series with contributing editor Mark Bauerlein, George Weigel joins…
Kings, Behold and Wail
I was a full-time parish priest at a time when we still visited people in their homes.…
