I think my Mom was a dreamer
who was never quite sure whether
she was to wake up or to lie down

to rustle softly as if in a breeze,
where I see her there still in a
picture window, golden and deep red
leaves in shadows of tinted glass

the sun at the end of day an inch from hot,
so beautiful in its endless stretch of light
made evident as rays by other light,
colored pink and ocher

cc: Chagall 2021