Donal Mahoney Poems
Letter To An Estranged Middle-Aged Son
The older I get the more I realize
the importance of getting things done
before your mother announces another
assignment to roust me from my hammock.
As you know I've never been much
around the house, my skills limited to
raking leaves and shoveling snow,
menial tasks I haven't missed in years.
Probably not since you lived here.
Your mother, of course, grew up on a farm
and has always liked getting things done.
But she's getting older too. In fact,
she recently had a big operation
and I've pitched in beyond my skill set
So Fingertips Kiss
Five kids, eight years.
And then one day my wife
shouts to me on the tractor
roaring in the field:
“I’ve had enough.”
And like a ballerina,
she rises on one foot, sole
of the other foot firm