from the market, no clouds by the window.

she secures the meat and milk

in their allotted ground

and the beans away from danger.

for the end, she unveils three irises

and frames them

with the diminishing afternoon.

the song of the refrigerator accompanying

the removal of her shopping shoes,

mother opens her psalm.

before beginning the chapter of the day,

she allows her gaze to caress the flowers.

in that fleeting moment,

their stems rise unadorned,

their crowns expand,

unfettered by questions of indulgence

or the din of memory.