Approaching my Birthday
Iíve scant knowing Ė
a planned home birth, youngest
of four, a week premature,
hints of heavy weather, relief
I didnít arrive yellow.
My mother, never one for story-weaving,
no longer alive to provide memories
I dream auguries Ė
a moon-bereft night, piercing shriek
with ghost-winged glide, fox-prints
circumscribe our house, a roof-perched
as Snedronningen veils my motherís eyes,
sets snowdrops in my sight.
If you have any comments on this poem, Nancy Charley would
be pleased to hear from you.