Look at her face –

like a mother pondering hopes

and fears for the child in her hands, a vine

just above heart’s level.

How much can go wrong in spite

of best efforts? Weather, pests, disease.

Her head bowed, wistful. A halo

of sunshine. Still, she almost

blends in – colors and brushstrokes –

with the background: over her shoulder,

the impassive peaks,

crags and chutes, rock and snow,

even in a hopeful season.

Taylor Graham