My Mother Rosie Rossman

In my dreams, 

she’s half brownie, half birdie

always in a flurry, 

Scurrying wide and near

to perch and peer 

with bright eyes alight

flickering,

Forever in quest of smiles

To line her nest

She bustles about

On little feet

Sharing bits of sweet

this and that of chat

and a beaming smile

or kindly pat.

And some nights

when she bobs nearby

I see with my dreaming eye

a wee hint -a little inkling-

Of glossy beating wings

Palpitating with life And for a moment, my heart sings.