Because it’s Mother’s Day on Sunday, I wrote a poem for my mother. I hope she likes it.

We are not so different, you and I
we are both, for example,
green like the sense of discovery
or the knowing eyes of cats—we
are moss, survivors on slowly-dying rocks

and yet we are
quite different tones of green;
I, with lime-sharpness on the tongue
and you, with vine-crispness at the teeth

clashing hues
missing cues
unstill

We are different enough
to make a forest of two trees.