I'm thinking of a day
an afternoon
spent on the beach
near Lambert's Cove
facing the Sound
my mother sat in her beach chair
for hours
playing contentedly
as if a child
with the beach stones
yellow, pink, and grey
wave washed and smooth
that lay there in the sand
about her feet
most were the size
of cantalopes or yams
and when the time
came to head home
she had me fill
a little knapsack
to carry on my shoulders
through the woods
a quarter mile
back to the car
they must have weighed
thirty or forty pounds
she was imagining
how nice they'd look
edging her summer garden
I thought she must still see me
as her big strong boy
the words she used
a bit in shock
after my bipass surgery
I was glad
that I could make her happy
that day
simply by bringing stones
back from the beach