Dawn

This poem is one that Mom wrote several years ago. She won a writing contest with this piece and I now have this poem on a plaque in my bedroom. When Kenna died, we had this poem printed on the back of her memorial booklet, and it was on the inside of Mom's memorial booklet. The pastor read it at her funeral, but I can't remember if he read it before I read mine or after. I think it perfectly sums up who my mom was: a deeply spiritual woman who appreciated the little joys in life.

"Dawn"

I walk at dawn through meadows gray,
to see the sunrise on the hill.
This is my favorite time of day,
when all is quiet; all is still.
And at first light in the eastern sky,
I hear a rustling in the trees.
I hear a brook go chuckling by,
and whispered prayers upon the breeze.
And as I feel the first warm ray,
A bird sings out from winged flight.
He's singing to announce the day,
and bid farewell to fading night.
The sounds of dawn bid me, "rejoice!"
They're echoes of the Master's voice.

- Shirley Love

As a side note, I have always heard Mom's name not as "Shirley Love," but as "surely, love."  She had so much love and she shared it abundantly.

I saw her this morning just as I was waking up. In my dream I was at the municipal swimming pool, talking to some people I knew from junior high and high school. I looked up and there she was at the other end of the pool. She was younger, probably in her late 40s or early 50s. Her hair was in the curly perm she always wore back then and she was wearing her glasses. She was looking away, possibly reading something, and her entire being was out of proportion from the scene; she was ten times bigger than the rest of us. Larger than life. I said, "Oh my god, that's my mother!" And just as I was about to run through the water to join her, I woke up.

How apropos that Mom visited me at "Dawn."