Saturday, September 18, 2010

172

Behind my mother in her car
her hand would always reach for the song
by a woman with a voice like mountains.

Maybe the song was called mountains or
it was playing as we drove through mountains
but now I've learned to walk
and mountains sound like her.

It took my mother all her life to like that song.
From the back seat of her car I heard the mountains
where she'd been before.

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