1st Place of 2024 Fall Poetry Contest: Mother’s Day - James E. Stephenson

ekphrastic

The photo of you,

at nineteen.

Dad’s favorite,

from the brief and eternal island

of your summer courtship,

just before the ceremonies and the six of us,

sweeps us back, and

we can see,

the wind was blowing your nearly blonde hair back

far away

back into your growing up days,

your arms flung as wide and open

as all the world,

your eyes almost closing with

the freedom and pleasure of

being lifted on the breeze

above all the muddy stuff,

all the crusty wishes of others.

A skirt,

in the wind,

could ask your knee for a dance

and so you shouldn’t,

and didn’t,

refuse.

The wings of your smile fill the sky.

Thank you mom,

for that day,

for sending it forward.

We receive it

and promise to live,

forever nineteen,

in the blossoming flower,

the consuming love

you released

into that one

click of a shutter.

---

James E. Stephenson is the oldest of six brothers and sisters. He grew up in one-high-school towns in Texas and Arkansas. He earned degrees from Yale and Duke. He was a trial lawyer for 18 years. Then, he led a 1,000-employee company for 25 years. Now, he writes.