THE VEIL IS THIN

They have never left.
The sharp chill in the air,
the soft breeze brushing the cheek,
the faintest scent of lavender on a late spring day,
the swishing sound of an endless willow strand;
all reminders of enchantments felt, not seen.

Mothers and their mothers;
conservators of unconditional love.
Some missed the mark,
however, pure their heart’s intent.
Now, sentinels, on the ready,
a whisper, a breeze, a scent away.

When we are most in need of reminders that we are loved.
The veil is thin
and they have never left.

For my mom, Alice Pleasant, miss you.