A Tribute to My Mother ~

Storms at Night

Evenings, or during the night
when rain would pellet our roof
with lightning flashing all around us
making the curtains swell
with the thud of thunder,
Mother would enter our room
and sit on the bed
with the four of us
to light a candle she held
in her hand—
Mother, once a little girl on Brady Street,
now sitting with us
sovereign, like a mighty angel,
our stalwart protectress,
holding the bursting sky at bay,
gently taming bolts of harm
calming roaring thunder,
subduing a raging storm
while we sat there—
silent and awed.

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