Greg Turlock

POETRY | SECOND PLACE TIE

Numbing November winds bully their way across rolling Alberta prairies mother and her four young children huddle near the wood stove as power flickers on and off, she tries not to worry about her husband driving home she sews seeds of goodness.

She lights a candle in the frosty kitchen window amber flame flickers in the shadows as embers crackle in the wood stove she sews seeds of goodness.

Fairy tales for the children, she tucks them in for the night peering into the darkness, a blizzard rages on kettle put on the stove she sews seeds of goodness.

As their kitten sleeps in a nest of tangled wool she knits mittens each stitch woven with dedication and love hours slip away, children cozy in their beds she sews seeds of goodness.

Clock ticks down to midnight at last he is home she kisses his cheek, as he shakes off the cold arms around each other sewing seeds of goodness.

They can rest now for the family is where they should be safe at home together sewing seeds of goodness.

This poem is dedicated to my mother, who was constantly sewing, knitting, and crocheting for my three siblings and me.

SUMMER 2025 | 45