A poem for a mother and everyone who has lost there own.

White Egret
January 29, 2026

Upon a branch in a very tall tree
I watched a white Egret land
Turning its head this way in that
In search of something I guess
Or, perhaps just to rest
I looked up and immediately thought
Happy birthday mom
For it was in fact her 91st.

Beside me, she would have said
Oh Sammy, silly me
A cardinal or a dove it must be
When you see a loved one past
But somehow I thought it right
that a white egret would come to call
not as the shape might suggest
but that was in fact
the way my mother dressed.

For my mother was a simple mom
in every way there was
Nothing frilly, fancy, or silly she
For simple and clean was all she need
Simple but smart in a quiet way
as she watched over me.

So, a white egret perched upon a branch
does not seem far fetched to me
For so long, she watched her young flock grow
and finally leave the nest
and now perched on a branch in a tall tall tree
she finally gets to rest.

Happy birthday, mom.