I Bless the Morning

With gladness
she folded up her sweet soul,
packed it neatly
for the homeward journey;
but she left too soon,
like winter’s twilight—
silver throated song to Heaven’s choir joined.

Grateful to kneel in her company,
exalt each night in faith and trust
and bowed head,
I remember my mother,
the angel who sings for angels.

I bless the morning
that spreads the curtains in gentle light,
where breezes bearing good news
ruffle pages for a new day
and rainbow promises
color my lonely skies—
my mother, her God,
from whence cometh my strength.

One day she will reach down
with extended hand
and I will board Jacob’s ladder
as easily as a cruise ship.