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.