For Eszter Lidia Katalin at 65
and now again in memory some 20 years later

My mother is a garden
Beautiful and bountiful 

There are quiet fragrant meandering ways
to contemplate the eternal mysteries 

Seasonal dances of colour call attention
to special flourishes and flairs
lovingly bestowed on family and friends
Pleasures for the palate
Sustenance for the mind
Stories for the soul 

            Careful cultivation
Edged with wilderness surprises
Rushing brooks and wondrous wells
A constant marvel 

Cycle upon cycle
Through drought, plague and pain
Nourishing always
Nuggets of Rugged Hope 

A garden, remarkable and loved.