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Mother

I sauntered slowly as a tortoise takes his steps to reach a bed of water, when all at one my view ahead was somewhat in disorder. I stopped and cleared my eyes in hopes of clearer gazing and what i saw just down the path was truly just amazing. I saw a group of five pink turkey chicks in perfect line parading, proceeding to a rocky mountain crag with water cold cascading. Each chick in line moved to the fall and drank his share of water, then started a new line, no doubt, on mother hen's soft order. Then all the other four repeated the same routine, and each chick one at a time left the fall with stately steps and joined the new formed line. Then mother hen gave out a signal to restart the parading and in a minute or a minute two my view of them became unclear and quickly fasing. As my teary eyes began to clear one view, there came yet one another, of my own parade so long ago with my own special hen, the greatest one in all the world, my love, my life, my mother. Poem by Warren Padla, Jan. 2022 of them


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Mother