Backyard

There’s an old glove I had that summer
When the weeds were eating up the flower beds.
We had a broken patio, and a fence with spirea. 
I looked up from my work that day,
and there Mom was, dressed in polka dots and yellow.
A broken thing by then, our life.
But one time there she was,
Standing in yellow polka dots,
Happy as a dandelion.

Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, August 2010