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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
murmuration flies

as Snedronningen veils my motherís eyes,
sets snowdrops in my sight.

Nancy Charley


If you have any comments on this poem,  Nancy Charley would be pleased to hear from you.

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