Posted on May 9, 2026 by Jenn Zatopek

MOTHERING

The gray cat and I looked out the window
and spotted the young squirrel below, foraging for nuts
in the shielded soil of our front-yard shrubs.
Her golden-brown tail waved like a conductor
and I became the orchestra, playing my next note,
calling out to the little one, Come sit here with us,
and she did. The cat scampered off in excitement,
but I stayed by the glass to admire new life before me,
the slip of a squirrel still munching on her nut
while I cooed at her, close enough to savor her fur
the color of sunburnt grasses, close though to gaze
into her dark brown eyes looking back at me sweetly
as if to say–Can you love me as I am? Can you? Can you?
And I have always wanted to be a mother,
had no inkling, only hope, this tiny patch of earth our home
would become a sanctuary, an unfolding green house of grace
and I whispered to the quiet one before me
the one always listening, hearing the words spoken–
I can, I can, I can. 

Image / Alex Lauzon, Unsplash