she covers herself in blankets her Mamma made whether twenty years ago
or just last week

the thought of safety comforts me

every morning there’s a whistle at eight o’clock sharp
in this town where she
was raised

the example of reliability soothes me

And then, just like that

there’s a ceiling fan she cannot figure out how to shut off
its a reminder of her inability
while in the bedroom

criticism flows far too easily for me

stepping out into the world with nature surrounding her senses
there’s a peace released
acceptance implied

worthiness arrives to remind me