Two egrets at the edge of a tidal marsh
By Rebekah Wolman
A mother and a child, I think, then reconsider. It's a matter of perspective, of the angle and the distance, whether one seems taller than the other, whether one seems to take the lead as they tiptoe into all that settles as the tide recedes. It's where the light is coming from that elongates their reflection. It's the direction and strength of the wind that determines whether their mirror image wobbles or stands still. There's little at this distance to differentiate them. The slightest alteration yields regret, a feeling that something should have happened differently. I visit with my mother, who used to be the taller one. Now time is what differentiates who's the child from who's the mother. Each morning of my visit, I sweep up Rose of Sharon blossoms, fallen furled as if ready to begin again at their beginning. As if ready to begin again at my beginning I sweep up Rose of Sharon blossoms, fallen furled, each morning of my visit—or as if she's the child and I'm the mother, the taller one now. Time is what differentiates this visit with my mother from what used to be, a feeling that something could have happened differently. Regret yields to the slightest alteration, wobbles, then stands still. There's little at this distance to differentiate us or determine whether our mirror image is a true reflection. It's the direction and strength of the wind, it's where the light is coming from, that elongates all that settles as the tide recedes. Who seems to take the lead as we tiptoe into weather? One seems taller than the other, whether it's a matter of perspective, of the angle or the distance. A child and a mother, I think, then reconsider.
Rebekah Wolman is an erstwhile middle-school principal based in San Francisco, California, on the unceded ancestral homeland of the Ramaytush Ohlone people. Her poems have appeared in The New Verse News, Sixfold, Limp Wrist, MacQueen’s Quinterly, Orotone, The Hopper, Atticus Review, and Cultural Daily, where she is a 2021 winner of the Jack Grapes Poetry Prize. She is the 2022 winner of the Small Orange Emerging Woman Poet Honor.
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This is so beautiful.
This poem is beautifully made. Image, concept, feeling, and structure all work together to form a lovely "reflection." Thank you for this poem.