So many cars (no windshield stickers now).
At intersections stationed traffic cops
Direct the families creeping so slow,
Eyes scanning the lawns for their final stops.
Worn khakis and Hawaiian shirts on chairs,
And sulking teens and babies’ laughs in peals.
Armenian ladies, arm-in-arm in pairs,
Improbable hair wearing six-inch heels.
Here’s a lone one, a man turned back to boy.
He brought his new Harley to show her
And now he sits sad, forgets his parked toy,
How proud she’d be of what is and who were.
Everyone’s at the convention today.
All together now, “Happy Mother’s Day.”
Written June 12, 2012; revised and published June 27, 2017.