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Month 1:6

My mother loved me the same way

she tended her rock garden, adoring

stone lumps no less than buds

no less than bugs. Hardly weeding.

by Therese L. Broderick

About ThereseLBroderick

Independent community poet living in Albany, New York USA.

One response »

  1. Said the rabbit and he said it right, too little time, or too little me!

    Oh! And here’s version 2 of your poem I suppose, changed from what I got by subscription already. I liked the first and well, but yes, this revision is even more zen-like. Very good. Good eye or ear or fingers you have for words!

    Ever read much by Dale Favier? (Back from days of RWP.) He did a post about poetry in this modern world of abundance by the internet. So many more possible Shakespeares all around! (Like right here!) If curious…



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