On the top of the dunes in the Netherlands

At the top of the dunes

Above the old, shabby coat that
has set a defiance
against ages of storms,
shines, at the top of the dunes.
a little, white head.

The tiny face
above lacking shoulders
belonging to my mother,
is just strong enough
not to be blown away.

She winks and waves
as if she already knows
that this image of her
between screeming seagulls
once will say:

do not forget that
between rough dashes of
dark clouds and water
a tiny human is also
just here to enjoy and play,
being a part of
what goes on
for ages and ages.


That is why
I saved my mother
today

Wieke