Marie Katrosh Silano, 1931-2020

My mother returns as a crane I'm reaching toward,
calling to someone nearby:
It's a sandhill!

I fall back asleep, forget the dream until I open my laptop,
find the Poetry Daily feature, a poem
about a female sandhill crane

who feeds her partner cranberries. When he scoffs at her offering,
she dresses his eyes in berry pulp. Staining him for life.
I want the crane to be my mother,

so I google I dreamed of a crane, learn cranes signify
maternal affection, share a special love
for their own young,

that the souls of the dead are often depicted riding to heaven
on the back of one. The poem, I don't notice till later,
is written by someone named Marie.