A Mother’s Love     one glint in the blue-black night, a dying flare that could be the mother of all invention, closing her eye on creation, will weep no more for lost children, her ashes will scatter for all eternity in boundless affection     D M Fox © 6/02                                                                   A Gentle Woman       Some time during the night The frayed tether broke And she slipped away downstream Far beyond the sound of my voice, Far beyond the call to home.   Yet, in the silence of this night I see her face in the silver moon Light rippling on dancing water, Diamond eyes, blinking fireflies, Sorrow calls among long leaf pines.   My mother was a gentle woman. She dreamed of peace and carried love In her heart for family, friends, All who would heed And even those who would not.   My mother was a gentle woman. She loved books and prayer, Morning walks that led her path To those who lacked for comfort – She gave without regard of return.   My mother was a gentle woman Whose spirit freely shared Her homespun wisdom Channeled through generations Of women who knew how to cope   With whatever challenges Life’s wayward winds might bring. From these trials grew strength, Determination, resilience, and still My mother was a gentle woman.   Thank you, Mother, for teaching me To be a gentle man.       © 9/23/04 Donald M. Fox