Dear Mom

i want to tell you everything

the morning sky

the red japanese maple

acorns conkers and beech nuts

crunching underfoot

the wet that gets everywhere

the mold and the gray days

and my morning drives with you

over hills and down through

the fog pooling in the derwent valley

ada’s curls

her sleepy face

her angel hair and skinny knees

i want to sit next to you

on this couch under knitted blanket

with instant coffee and half-and-half

watching darkness lift

from black to blue to pale gray

the garden coming into focus

we would wait for the footsteps

and the little voice

at the top of the stairs

our eyes would light up

smiles would pour back and forth

how lucky, how

lucky can we get