Sometimes I think God grew tired of making
thunder and mountains and dawn redly breaking;
weary of fashioning gorges and seas,
weary of planting great forest of trees.
Sometimes I think God grew tired of heating
the earth with the sun and of fully completing
the whole of the world!
God grew tired,
and so He took just a bit of the soft afterglow,
He took just a petal or two from a flower
and took a songbird from a sweet scented bower.
The dewdrops He took from the heart of a rose
and added the freshness of each breeze that blows.
Across long green meadows He took all the love
left over from making His heaven above.
His kind fingers mixed them -
God's hand and no other -
and made, for the first time, the soul of a mother.
Margaret E. Sangster
Happy Mothers' Day -
especially to those in heaven.