The Mother

Photo by Patrick Robert Doyle on Unsplash

A Poem by Bethy Houseman

A swan,

A mother,

Sat large upon her nest.

We knew to keep our distance.

She was strong,

And she was impressive,

Protecting her cygnets.

I had nothing but respect.

Could that be me?

Steadfast and firm,

Cherishing her God-given progeny.

I want to be that mother.

She was still,

But still in strength,

Not in weakness.

I want to protect my son.

She and I,

We share that.

We both love our young.

Elizabeth Houseman is a reader, writer, Christian, and wife living in coldhearted Michigan. She has work featured in La Piccioletta Barca, Critical Read, The Way Back to Ourselves, & elsewhere. When she isn’t obsessively writing, she works as a freelance photographer. You can find her on Instagram and Threads at @bethyhouseman.