Letter To An Estranged Middle-Aged Son Poem by Donal Mahoney

The older I get the more I realize
the importance of getting things done
before your mother announces another

assignment to roust me from my hammock.
As you know I've never been much
around the house, my skills limited to

raking leaves and shoveling snow,
menial tasks I haven't missed in years.
Probably not since you lived here.

Your mother, of course, grew up on a farm
and has always liked getting things done.
But she's getting older too. In fact,

she recently had a big operation
and I've pitched in beyond my skill set
despite new stents and a pacemaker.

But even though we just put away
the walker, cane and wheelchair,
all three are on alert so I believe

it's best to let you know that
one of these days the one who's left
will ring you up and let you know.