In summer the valley smells of freshly winnowed wheat

there is just enough dew on the ground
to keep the red dust down.

The valley’s hospital is of clapboard painted yellow

some say in fun to honor their chief benefactor,
a Mister Lester Lemon.

It was cool inside the building because of the tile

I was glad to escape the heat as I followed the nurse
down the corridor to my mother’s room.

The half light gave an eerie glow to the room.

It’s strange how light can change your perception
of things. The sheets became a shroud. I closed my
eyes and moved to the window.

From my pocket I took out the remains of my breakfast, opened

the window and put them on the ledge
for the birds to eat.

Returning to my mother, I took up her hand. On her wrist was a

scar from a boat accident. I traced it with my finger, then
I began to cry.

Through my tears I saw a robin scratching in the crumbs. Suddenly

there was a flurry of wings. The bird had gone.
Then my mother.