Mother’s Day Poem

May 13, 2012 § 10 Comments

May your Mother’s day be joyous

May your garden grow rich and green

May you not spy a single squirrel

Or even think of one

Reaching down from the low branch of a tree

To run its fingers through your hair

Or kissing you on the neck with its soft black lips

Or pressing its buttocks


Against your windowpane

When you are trying to watch “House”

Or forming a slow-moving lump under the covers

As it slowly moves up higher and higher

On its way to hide an acorn in your ear.

I love you.



§ 10 Responses to Mother’s Day Poem

  • Gayla Collins says:

    Gees, thanks, Kathy. I have a phobia about the rodent family which in my mind includes squirrels. When I was a kid a packrat haunted me for weeks and now if I am in a park and a squirrel comes near me I starting sobbing and running for the car.

    Thanks for the lovely nightmare I will be having tonight, Giggle

  • Joan says:

    Speaking of unspeakable acts with animals, did you see the thing about the guy licking the monkey’s butt because it was too small to pass a peanut? Ahh … maybe not a traditional Mother’s Day story, but who else would do something so unselfish?

    Hey, are you gonna come to Austin and do a Blue Asylum reading? Before it’s 100º here?

  • Michele Wilhite says:

    That was my first real Mother’s Day laugh! Picturing the dainty clawed- paw running through your Mom’s hair, the pink-black? lips, and the butt-press on the window gave me a big chuckle. Don’t tell your Mom that I LOVE squirrels! She might not be my friend anymore. When I fed the birds in Michigan we had a squirrel-proof feeder, so I had a special dish on the deck for squirrels and chipmunks:)

    • Well my mother really thinks quite a lot of you, Michele, so if she knew you loved squirrels, she might come around a little to your point of view, but more likely her head would just explode.

  • Tamra Orr says:

    Thanks for a poem that was so funny I read it to everyone in the family. Having been taunted with a tale of vicious Nazi squirrels when I was little and my brother took advantage of my youth, I can relate to your mother’s terror. Now my kids feed the squirrels on our back deck, proving that recovery is possible.

  • Dylan Lee says:

    I’m going to get my dad to move to Utah so he can marry lots of new moms for me; then I can read this poem to more than one deserving woman.

  • Saintly Mother says:

    Thank you, my precious Baby, for the Mother’s Day poem. However, the yellow roses were more precious because they told me that you were also remembering my own Mommie, which always pleases me. I only started hating squirrels when they deprived me of ever getting a single peach or pecan from my trees. I may have to add birds to the list of dispicable varmints as they have gathered en masse to collect each ripening fig the past few days.

  • I never thought in a trazillion years, that a Mother’s Day poem would apply to both of our Mother’s. And yet, it does. You’ve done it. Genius.

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