mom

I watched my mother pottering
in our terrace garden
(if I can call it that)
squating on the floor,
she was tending to her precious plants
cutting those to shape,
snipping out the weeds
I could hear her humming
to the oncoming buds
her tenor changed from plant to plant
the love she poured on those
was visible to all and sundry

I and my three brothers
had been brought up in a brisk manner
(I don't remember her singing for us)
here she was with her plants
singing for them to glory
with a twinge of jealousy
I kept watching her
then it dawned on me
we too had been cut and snipped
to shape and to the right size
and her love for us had kept us
all closer and still together

"I got up and squated beside her-
she handed me over the watering-pot
and went on with her humming"