Song of the Near Empty Nest
a poem by Nordette Adams
Some mornings I get happy.
I remember old mothers shouting in church.
They hopped, heads back, faces up to God,
palms outward and the swell of
My spirit's jumping in its cage,
in this old body the soul leaps.
Sometimes I get low.
I remember old mothers wringing hands,
Jesus! Jesus! the child's hard-headed.
Heads bowed and a swell of prayer.
My spirit's trembling in its cage,
in this old body the soul kneels.
Today I am an old psalm
spoken to young mothers in the square.
They chase toddlers and bear the future,
seeking wisdom and the swell ...
© 2009 Nordette Adams