May View from Dewena's Window

I go into my dressing room and pull the blinds up.

I look up the green hill to where our firstborn

lives with his sweet wife.

When they moved in he would hang Christmas lights

from the deck for me to see and fly Old Glory.

Now, without the Black Angus that once kept

the grass cropped,

nature has taken over and I only catch a glimpse

of his rooftop in winter.

I begin my prayer for the day with this firstborn

and his family.

I look to see what is in bloom today;

it changes throughout the seasons.

And then I pray for our other three children

and their families.

I look at the wall enclosing the white crabapple,

two varieties of wild azaleas we bought

in the mountains of North Carolina.

These have already bloomed,

their beauty so fleeting,

as are the tulips and daffodils that bloom first.

I think of my husband who built the bed

across the creek from my window
and planted it all

just so I could have something beautiful to look at

when I pull the blinds in the morning

and when I do my ironing.

I pray for him.

I notice that the yellow rose continues to struggle

among the larger pink bushes,

but there are always a few blooms.

I pray for my 90 year old mother,

matriarch of our family.

I pray for my sisters and their families.

I look to the left,

towards the road leading to the barn,

and notice that the white mountain azalea

is still blooming.

She's past her peak, her beauty fading,

never very noticeable anyway,

but she's there and will be back next May,

God willing.

I pray for myself and

give thanks for another May morning.