THERE ARE NO WORDS
I search among the plain and lovely words
To find what the one word “Mother” means. As well
Try to define the tangled song of birds,
The echo in the hills of one clear bell—
One cannot snare the wind—or catch the wings
Of shadows flying low across the wheat.
Ah—who can prison simple, natural things
That make the long days beautiful and sweet?
“Mother”—a word that holds the tender spell
Of all the dear, essential things of earth:
A home, clean sunlit rooms, and the good smell
Of bread, a table spread, a glowing hearth,
And love beyond the dream of anyone—
I search for words for her—and there are none.
~ Grace Noll Crowell
Painting: Mother and Child by Sarah Mathis Schulz
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