On the Ride Home…

I was sitting in my car,

stuck in traffic

on a busy residential street.


I looked out the window,

and saw

a woman.


She was not young,

but she was not elderly.


She was dressed in bright green.

Her clothes held

the same promise of Spring,

as the warm breeze filling my car.


The woman was using a push broom

to sweep her driveway~

using vigorous strokes

to push the leaves off the concrete.


Was she angry at those

stubborn winter leaves that

refused to leave,

so Spring could spread

her Beauty?


Her mouth was set

in a determined line.

Her jaw was clamped tight

as she fought against

the last vestiges of Winter.


As I inched forward in traffic,

another figure

came into view.


Standing at the edge of

the driveway,

a woman~

dressed in white

stood with her arms crossed

with  a look

of loving, exasperation

on her face.


The same look

a mother gives

her stubborn toddler

who refuses her help.


Who needs to prove,

she can do it

all by herself.


I glanced again

at the woman in green,

still pushing that broom



But this time,

I noticed,

she pushed with her right hand,

while her left hand,

hung useless

at her side.

© annettealaine-2013

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