it rained last night

[fledgist]

the watching raven perches on the windowsill
that half-built house a sort of wooden cave
my mother's voice on the telephone is grave
she speaks of growing old and of the ill
health of a sister who has lost the will
to carry onwards what of life she can save
a wreck of memory she never could behave
in simple ways and now her mind falls still
my mother's words contain good sense and cheer
the message a quite simple one she's fine
and i should not be worried soon she'll move
much nearer to her sisters there'll be care
for years to come there's static on the line
but one thing's clear for now she's in the groove