Here's a poem I just discovered tonight. I love how the poet makes his mother so absolutely human in telling about her one small mannerism. Don't forget to check out the audio on this.
Oh, and Happy Mother's Day MOM!
Dinner with my Mother
by Hugo Williams
My mother is saying 'Now'.
'Now,' she says, taking down a saucepan,
putting it on the stove.
She doesn't say anything else for a while,
so that time passes slowly, on the simmer,
until it is 'Now' again
as she hammers out our steaks
for Steak Diane.
I have to be on hand at times like this
and general conversational encouragement,
but I am getting hungry
and there is nowhere to sit down.
'Now,' I say, making a point
of opening a bottle of wine.
Go here for the rest of the poem, and of course, the audio.