Recalling my first taste of lemonade
from tall, cold glasses served from patio
to me in hammock deep in leafy shade
of tree that held Mom’s swing long years ago,
I grinned and thanked her for such gentle care.
The years were rolling silver dollars spent.
My mom and I lived our lives unaware–
it seemed–that change could come without a hint —
one day it happened instantly in time.
How strange! I did not notice right at first —
when hands of kindness ceased their pantomime,
and shook until my world collapsed, then burst.
When bands of angels flew from Heaven’s shade
they took the one who poured sweet lemonade.
© 2014 Freeda Baker Nichols