Lightly, I hopped up
And landed gently on the windowsill.
Mom, after two tries,
Got up less gracefully
And we laughed ourselves to tears.
When the laughter subsided,
The gentle breeze
And sweet serenity
Of a mild July night
Lulled us into silence.
A night hawk called
Into the darkness.
I whistled back.
The nighthawk and I
Held a conversation
Until he tired of the game
And flew away.
Mom and I perched on the sill,
Watching lightning flare in the distance.
She whispered to me
How happy she'd been
When I was born.
How happy she'd been
To have me.
I wondered,
"Aren't you now?
Or are you ashamed?"
Aloud, I only agreed
With her rosily-tinted memories
Of my childhood.
The lightning flickered on the horizon,
And I wished to stay
On the windowsill
For all eternity.
