by Kathryn Stein
The scent of maple syrup stirred her
Rising, she met the yellow sun.
Mother’s humming, soothing
She ladles perfect circles
On orange plates, round and full.
Slightly browned and gleaming
The rising smell, warm.
And fresh-picked daisies,
A freshness that rivals syrup
In sweetness, and calm.
Sunday morning, cool air
Gentle light—sticky fork.
Mother’s hands tender touch
To cheek reminds her of fall afternoons.
Cool skin slowly melds with cheek,
And warmth spreads through
Like butter blending with syrup
On a hot, round orange plate.
Spring 2015 