furrows in the sand
scooped out by crashing waves;
mother's forehead
thinking of
mother, her dishes --
Russian nested dolls
steamed buns…
enclosed in the attic
mother's smell
in the attic
autumn moonlight pools...
mother's mooncake
mother and I
stand on Pacific coasts --
the same bright moon
Mother's Day Poems section of the March / April, 2010 issue of Sketchbook