Marie Maurer

Through the passing seasons
your garden thrived the hands
were experienced with bowls
and pots and linen folded
carefully in neat piles
when I was three you charmed
a bird to sit in the
palm of your hand then it
returned each year again
when I was four you taught me
to swim when I was six
I borrowed your bike you
knitted me jumpers in
autumn in winter you
sled through immaculate
forests holing me tight
we climbed mountains in spring
and every summer
hired a rowing boat
you whistled like a scout
at bedtime kissed me good-
night I keep the gold ring
you wore on your right hand.