for mom, with love

we wrote some haikusto express our gratitudehappy sixtieth

lying on the couchyou play softly with my haircan you scratch my legs?

no we don’t need one.I like my u-shaped kitchenno granite counters!

morning at the lakemoldy, yucky, coffee potwe can all drink tea

summer bookmakingfive copies of each photoat the Wokkery

I refuse to weara Seba Regatta hat.... stupid sun stroked me

always so concerned about my delicate skinI don’t want Ombrelle!

remember the timewhen mom got three speeding finesin one day? yeah, hah!

the accordianexpresses the true beautyof Zingarella

chicken soup with lovechicken soup with ginger rootchicken soup with salt?

spanokapitaso delicious, we all sayI ate 5… don’t tell!

the smell of fried fishwafting through the shabbos airsole with tarter sauce

it is six amshould I sleep until sevenor bake apple pie?

start of Septemberone thing we always count onkuffles kuffles yeah!

this is how we knowshe shows her love with kufflesthanks, Canada Post!

it’s spelled hannukahwhat do we say? we say nayit’s spelled channukah?

Purim pregnancyJosephs and Katzs confused...it was the nineties

yellow onion skinsare the secret togolden chicken soup

Folk Fest togethermom comes with us this morningpour the spiked coffee!

cooking for sevengallons of tomato saucetwo freezers, good thing

bedtime stories likeFerdinand, Purple Crayonjust one more book please?

in her dance moves classthey dance to peppy musicshake it, shake it good!

I think the Oilers would have made the playoffs ifthey took your advice

your grown up chickensspread far across the wide globethank God for Air Miles

I don’t need a ridehome from my high school today…but thanks for the ride...

my children will notever have to cut their hairringlets forever!

nurturing passionsno one had a craft cupboardquite as stocked as ours

feminists from birth‘twas The Paper Bag Princessthat showed us true strength

always waiting upway past the end of the newsnot always awake

sitting on your laphearing you shout in my ears“go Esks go!” you yelled

a great volunteerdoor to door for heart and lungswhy on Oscar night?

in her calendarthe phone number you forgotfrom 2001

on the steps we waitcold or hot and very late“the telephone rang...”

what will you find nextin your magic, bottomlessblack and leather purse

reading the paperssix months after they are newsIraq war again?

party sandwichesstreamers, paper plates, balloonsinvite the whole class

silvery tin foilmoney in the birthday cakeI loved turning nine

you fortified dadall the way around the worldwith a banana

all our bags are packedpassing through securityyou stand ‘til the end