Mother: A Poem by Mary Lou Meyers

Friday, May 8th, 2020
My classmate, Mary Lou, has been terrifically prolific during this difficult time. Here’s one for Sunday, Mother’s Day. Even or especially now is the time to honor loved ones! I have interspersed photos from my neighborhood, where azaleas (and other flowers ) are in bloom. Their short burst of color is a welcome sight when my husband and I take a walk!
You have a scrap book of memories inside you.
Everything you turn your head to,
to guide you.
When you’re feeling out of sorts,
the action you resort to,
over the rough spots with your children in tow,
wherever you go, somehow you know what to do.
She never ran rough shod over you,
a blessing to have children,
you feel her nudge to safely dodge
the temperamental flare up,
she would stare you down.
Memories float virtually undisturbed
like dust mites,
and settle in the corner of your mind’s eye.
A Mother lifts the spirit of awareness
to a higher realm of consciousness.
In time of trouble, you resort
to her tried and true wisdom, of course,
knowing what to do subliminally.  
The pain to see you grow up and fly the nest,
she did the best thing she could,
Love, laughter, and happily ever after
when she became your out-of-town friend.
Mother awakened our senses to birdsong,
to purity of motive no matter loss or gain.
We couldn’t go wrong with a drive to right the wrongs.
The song we must carry life long
when her eyes sought us out,
not just for enterprise,
but the awakening of enlightenment inside.
Even if violets were strewn across her room
to brighten her life, she still had to pick up the wilted blooms;
or if you burned toast making the most of her special day
and stayed in bed, only to clean up afterward.
The tulips displayed on her tray announced
how close you were together once,
like birds of a feather, inseparable but ever-present
she remains in your life.
She indulged in straight talk,
not talking around the bush,
when she met us eye to eye,
she would discover if there was
any lie in it.
Exemplified the best when put to the test,
but asked for so little if you recall,
she forgave you for your slights
or when you failed to call.
This Mother’s Day may be different,
but the sentiments are the same.
No one would blame you
from refraining from hugging and kissing,
for now you must sacrifice to keep her safe
from the corona virus
with your social distancing.
But she is the Voice of Reason, 
now when the world seems awry,
trying to figure out the whys and wherefores
of corona virus, and exact a vaccine, a potential cures.
Workers laid off, routines disturbed,
but it’s happened before in her life, 
so she emotes a calming voice 
raised above the fray:
we will come back full force 
without dreams diminished or lost!
Here we are, Mother and Daughter housed together,
thinking how we can celebrate Mother’s Day,
(although it’s everyday for me, she does my shopping,
so I don’t need to expose myself to the rampant disease.)
Not the usual favorite restaurant for a sit-down menu.
The ban is not lifted today, simply take-out,
but wonder if it will be safe as we wonder about everything now;
pick our way through the few opened places
not shuttered down till when?
Longwood, where she worked is closed, but parks are opening
with wild flowers, not on display
but here and there along the pathway,
and once in awhile, a bower of blooms for a special day.
The best thing is your Daughter can name them all,
Latin and everyday making it an enchanted trip
of enlightenment for you.
(Notice how the daffodils begin to lose their blooms
just as the azaleas come into bloom? No coincidence;
Mother Nature at work! es)
From Mary Lou: I have written poems to both describe the impact of Covid 19 as well

as try to elevate the mood of those I send my E-Mail Poems to.

Mary Lou is the author of Whisperings Along the Octoraro  Who Speaks for Them?  Floating Free
and The Case of the Missing Silver Star.

Easter and Spring 2020 by Mary Lou Meyers

Tuesday, April 14th, 2020
My Douglass classmate, Mary Lou Meyers, sent this poem. Since April is National Poetry month, and we are all inside together, I think her thoughts might ring some bells. It is also Spring, which is getting lost in the anxiety over the virus, so I am posting some pictures I took the other day when my husband and I took a walk together, in between the stanzas. Since Mary Lou talks about nearby Longwood Gardens, I included one photo from their website. Thanx, Mary Lou!
Easter and Spring 2020

Trees are still blooming!
There’s a pall hanging over the sky bright opening
as we forge ahead this Easter Saturday in the Year of our Lord 2020.
Heaven and Earth no longer in tune with the fullness of Spring.
   Lonely Daffodil
Along with the  surge of daffodils comes a dirge,
all is not what it seems.
The fraternity of trees no longer awakened by the light breeze,
the fragrance we smell is not overpowering enough to set us free.
Yet we embark on a journey through the Watershed, we four,
my daughter and two friends, Cloey and Laura,
not rebuffed by the dismal statistics,
erasing the rest of April.
Will May follow suit,
but June be the breakthrough?
What is so rare as a day in June?
Socially Distanced Flowers
My eyes have grown weary of staring at 4 walls,
my legs aching for the recall of distant places,
resuming my pace.
But today we celebrate walking with familiarity,
keeping our social distance with a dog,
who has innate resistance.
So much has happened since I was last here,
the fierce wind swept trees along the shore
which means we have to find another way
to grasp the reality of the up and down day.
               Blue Skies
We’re all in it together but apart,
save for the spark conversation brings,
ringing like the chorus of a song,
all trying to stay ahead of the unseen virus,
the dread that continues to spread,
especially in the teaming cities.
      Snowy White Blossoms

Chloe gives my daughter a Peace Rose,

we think where it will grow best for new beginnings.

Like the one developed by Meilland before WWII

which made its debut in New York City after the war;

a tent city now with every available space taken

over for refugees from the disease

with Heart Island as the burial place.
      Tulips, one at a time
It is a kind of war we fight but
soundless and speechless,
It creeps over the landscape,
but the only arms and ammunition
are masks and gloves
with disinfecting sprays and purifying rights.
We have suspended other beginnings and endings,
birth rights and even the send-off ones
in a fight to overcome the unsent enemy
Topiary at Longwood Gardens

for corona virus has managed to consume

the bloom on the cheeks of children,

who must play away from other children and school;

while for the elderly and those comprised by life,

it only offers breathing mechanisms and a fight to survive.


The only hugs we give at trail’s end are “air” hugs,
blown like the seeds of next year’s plants and flowers
where these three gardeners can celebrate
Longwood Gardens opening to the public again
without the dread of corona virus.