Mom.

The person who, 

Carried,

Buried,

Followed, and

Wallowed,

Cared and wared. 

You are the moon, 

You are the stars,

You are the woosh of waves on lake Winnebago, crashing onto shore.

You are sourdough bread fresh out of the oven, the butter thinly spread over the hot slice.

You are the apples, picked off the tree in the backyard. 

You are the cardamom, cinnamon, ginger, clove, coriander, nutmeg, and vanilla, wafting from your daily morning cup.

You are the church bells booming off green lake.

You are the hope, and the trust.

You are the glue that holds everything together.

You are my hopes and dreams,

You are the light,

Mom.