My Mother Tells Me
My mother tells me
the ways the world used to be.
She says—
it used to snow on Christmas Day
the trees would turn red and orange
and yellow in the autumn months.
She tells me of a great reef in the ocean
dressed and dazzling in more colors than a child could dare
to dream
My mother tells me
of something she calls “bitter”
that it chilled the bone
and left frost on the morning grass in place of dew
My mother tells me
of bird sounds in the morning
the screech of owls and twitters of robins and blue jays
greeting the rising sun,
carried by breezes
My mother tells me
of bees in spring
and dandelion-green-and-yellow knees in summer
And sometimes, in the early morning light,
I can almost recall
a wanderlust from a home I’ve never known
Memories that fade and fall like snowflakes and the ice at
the edge of the world
And I—
I cannot help
but to cradle them in my warm, warm hands,
melting them,
picturing how the world must’ve looked.
Copyright © Ankica Montgomery | Year Posted 2026
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