On the Fiftieth Birthday of My Son

On the Fiftieth Birthday of My Son

His father wakes me

for a walk in the woods,

we and our boy.

on this sun flooded morning,

March 6, a date of measured hope.

The snow will return but not last.

I pull on my small knee brace,

that no one can see.

We three hike out

where every leaf has fallen

from every deciduous tree.

The forest gleams white sunshine,

crackles old ice, smells of water.

My son finds me a stick

for better balance,

the bark rough and safe in my hands.

He slows a little

at the deadfall logs,

to make sure I am okay.

I lag a little on the way home,

to watch their identical walks.

Nothing will make me unhappy today.

Carol L. Gloor


65 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

A Little Story

48~ Years Ago...I had a little pregnant Wife. I had lost my license a month after I got it because I got caught riding a mini bike on the road. I had a 51 Ford. We would drive back and forth in my Ma

Small Comfort

Small Comfort In the morning my small cat cries, his sad meows like a newborn’s. I follow the sound check all the closets to make sure he is not trapped. But no, there he is at the base of the stairs,

Words Not Spoken

For ‘Mom’ Emilie ‘Step’ never came before the word mom, not from our mouths. My tiny love story is about my mom. She came into my life when she was 42, and I was 7. I remember the comfort and security