My Mother's Birthday

Today my mother, were she
Still around, would be one
Hundred. A nice round number
Although if we give it some 
Thought, one hundred years
Is, as time and eternity
Is counted, not that much.  

But still, she’d be one
Hundred.  She made it to
Seventy-eight. Almost double 
What she had thought, given her
Mother was gone around 
Forty-odd.  My mother
Counted every year which

Passed that as a gift, each moment
Passed that as her mother’s 
Blessing, each day passed that as
Another stab at adventure. 
Each moment, hour, day,
Week passed; my mother the second
Grasped two-handedly. 

Today would have been 
My mother’s one hundredth
Birthday, although she is decades 
Gone. But her gift to me
Is to recall her adventures,
Her tales, her recountings
Of the everyday blessings. 

05/15/23