Autumn

Every day my mother and I walked,
me in my stroller, she on her own two feet,
down to the graveyard, where we were often stalked
by squirrels and chipmunks looking for a treat

held in my lap — horse chestnuts in glossy brown
coatings that peeked out from their spiky shells,
as in September, they came tumbling down
and we were there to catch them as they fell.

Now, as custodian of these memories,
while shadows fall upon my mother’s mind,
I yearn to bring them back to give her ease
though, in fact, I have not always been so kind.

Upon these things, I often cogitate
— my worry is that it may be too late.

***

Adrienne Stevenson has lived in Ottawa, Canada, since 1974. A retired forensic scientist, she writes poetry, fiction, and creative non-fiction. Her poetry has been published in Quills, Bywords, Blood & Bourbon, The Wire’s Dream, the Scarlet Leaf Review, the Ottawa Poets Pathway Lampman Challenge chapbook, Time and Again Poetry Anthology” chapbook, and most recently in 20/20 Vision by Canadian Authors Association-National Capital Branch.