On Mothering Sunday, March 2020
I took ten minutes to myself
to walk the esplanade at Broughty Ferry
a welcome breather, while lots of doors were closing.
Cracked my back, muscles tight from packing up
my nineteen-year-old daughter’s student flat—
a holiday that turned into a rescue mission.
I watched another mother on the beach
teaching her wee girl to skiff drakestones
on gentle waters at the mouth of the river Tay.
Mother Nature delivered me a gift.
First, I heard them trumpet news of their flyby,
then saw them skim the castle turrets.
Nineteen swans whooping overhead, against
the wrapping-paper backdrop of a cloudless sky;
feeling the under-draft of their wings on my face.
Gaynor Kane lives in Belfast. She has published three pamplets and one full collection of poetry all with The Hedgehog Poetry Press. She recently gave a number of poetry readings at Stendal festival, EastSide Arts Festival, Gloucester Poetry Festival, and Cheltenham Poetry Festival. Find out more at gaynorkane.com.