Across thirty years, my legs have lost an inch or so. Sometimes I sway. But I’ve held you: Pregnant. Nursing. Mourning your mother; reading your son tales.

Now you track the plane-free evening skies. A starling mob. One intent hawk. Through clouds, thin moon. You lean back. And I hold.

Lynne Barrett’s story collection Magpies received a Florida Book Awards gold medal. Her recent work appears in Orange Blossom Review, The Hong Kong Review, New Flash Fiction Review, Necessary Fiction, River Teeth, and Grabbed: Poets and Writers on Sexual Assault, Empowerment, and Healing. See more at LynneBarrett.com.