Mother

There you are, Mother
hands like steel
hands like feathers
half smiling
with that ambiguous mouth

Auburn waves frame your face
silver sunlit specks
There is wisdom in your eyes
a hint of disdain in your heart
There you are

The wind touches your dress
teasing it
undulating fabric around your knees
those sturdy knees
atop those disproportioned ankles

There you are
your half curved mouth
unequivocal only to me
Your favorite apron strategically tied
around a perpetually slender middle

Hands like stained glass
fragile, colorful, strong
Hands like steel
Hands like feathers
Here I am, Mother