The Mother of Boys

There is an enduring tenderness in the love of a mother to a son that transcends all other affections of the heart.

– Washington Irving , writer

The Mother of Boys

Praise to the High One for giving me joys
Peculiarly sweet, I'm the mother of boys!
Mud puddles, torn blue jeans, toads, whistles and worms.
The furred and feathered and whatever squirms.

Black knuckles, bats, arrows and thundering noise.
They're all in a day for the mothers of boys.
But, ah, 'tis a dear joy to turn the blue eyes
To the manifold wonder of earth, sea and skies.

And, ah, 'tis a dear joy to watch a small hand seize
The hand of God in the knowledge of these.
Spare me, oh High One, to praise Thee more when
This mother of boys is the mother of men.