Mother

Mid April already, and the wild plums
bloom at the roadside, a lacy white
against the exuberant, jubilant green
of new grass an the dusty, fading black
of burned-out ditches. No leaves, not yet,
only the delicate, star-petaled
blossoms, sweet with their timeless perfume.

You have been gone a month today . . .

Click here to read the rest of an outstanding poem by Ted Kooser which Garrison Keillor read on Writer's Almanac on 29 April 2011.

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