Extra Large Mother's Day Cards

Here there is no antidote for longing.
A love like this admits no extra or less.
Perhaps this is the fee of happiness.
Perhaps love is itself a kind of yearning.
Yet moms need to mood their needing,
Making room for those whom they would bless,
On whom they lay the load of fulfillment,
The mirror wherein they would see their dancing.
Here one can't select to be too picky.
Each toddler is a separate universe
Regarding one's candy goals with its personal eyes
'Mid the ancient battleground called love.
So have to mothers do their chosen responsibility,
Deep in love for higher or for worse,
And smooth of their minds, if they're clever,
Yet with hopes, no wisdom can cast off.

Hinder no longer the happiness
Alive in the coronary heart.
Perhaps it's only natural,
Perhaps it's miles an artwork.
Yet many rarely experience it,
Many do no longer recognize
Of the eternal tune
That makes the instant glide.
How might one concentrate on it
Except to sing and dance,
Reveling in splendor
'Mid readability and trance?
Singing to the mothers,
Dear vessels of the soul,
As Mary become Jesus,
Yielding glory complete.

How beautifully the speeding glass,
All molten gold across the stones,
Pours into pools of cloud and sky,
Paints a scrim across the deep.

Yesterday the milky grass
Made a blanket for the bones
Of all of the birds who wondered why,
Trilling surprise of their cheep.

How magically the morning brass
Eases our phantasmic moans,
Ripples salmon in the attention
'Ere the gauzy quit of sleep.

So, too, the syllables that bypass
Directly over silent thrones,
And mind that, graceful, slide properly through
Yon mysteries that dragons maintain.

Hinder not the happiness
Alive inside the coronary heart.
Perhaps it is simplest natural,
Perhaps it's far an artwork.
Yet many not often feel it,
Many do not realize
Of the everlasting track
That makes the instant glide.
How would possibly one concentrate to it
Except to sing and dance,
Reveling in beauty
'Mid readability and trance?
Singing to the mothers,
Dear vessels of the soul,
As Mary turned into to Jesus,
Yielding glory complete.

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