What I would give to go back

Back in our old house in Montana,

by Judith Waller Carroll

my mother hums something by Sinatra.
Outside, piles of leaves circle the yard
like teepees. Soon she will go out
to burn them, squinting against the smoke.
But there is a fire in the stove
so she lingers a while, sipping her coffee.

What I would give to go back
to that time and sit down beside her.
All day, the name of the tune she was humming
purrs around the edge of my memory
like a cat around my ankles, then glides away
just as I reach out to hold it.


by Judith Waller Carroll from The Consolation of Roses. © Astounding Beauty Ruffian Press, 2015