The Mantle

The mantle of motherhood
wraps around me like a homemade scarf --
sometimes so constricting I can barely breathe,
sometimes unfashionable;
but softening me with every wash
muffling my selfishness
warming my soul
so that I wonder how my cold, lonely neck
ever bore up my head without it.

(In a more compact form, this won the One Sentence Contest over at The Chocolate Chip Waffle.  Check it out!)

Another Attempt at Autumnal Appreciation

Is there anything left to be said about Fall?
Poets have probably written it all.
But still the leaves blaze in the Sun's lowered rays.
The season returns every year for more praise.

Does anything lovely rhyme with "Autumn?"
The calendar pages are nearing the bottom.
And whether you've raked them or simply forgot 'em,
The leaves tumble down every Fall.

So, smile at a pumpkin and slide on a sweater.
Step on the dry leaves before they get wetter.
Whether the maples are yellow or redder,
Savor the season of Fall!