Springtime Motherhood

I stand in the lull of dusk
My babies asleep a footstep away

My bare feet press into the dirt and gravel
My hands cup around the cool green stems
Of freshly cut daffodils and tulips
A cascade of red and yellow
Ready to adorn my table until
Their petals droop and drop to scarred wood below

I inhale, exhale
The sweetness of apple blossoms
Drifting on the winds of the gathering storm