(Editor's Note: On May 10, we will celebrate Mother's Day. These poems from DeAnna Quietwater Noriega state so well many of our memories of our mothers, we decided to include them here. We hope you enjoy them as much as we have.)


You can make her feel sad,
Or fill her heart with pride.
When you do something bad,
She will stand at your side.
When you go far away,
Taking off on your own,
A card on Mother's Day,
Pick up the telephone.
For all the care she gave,
For all her toil and tears,
One day a year we save,
For all her loving years.

-- DeAnna Quietwater Noriega

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MAMA'S HANDS Mama's hands are long, slender and graceful. The veins stand out on their backs and their joints are growing a little stiff. They show the signs of the years and the hard tasks they have performed. As my world began to grow gray and hazy, Mama's hand was strong and slim grasping mine. When I was sick, Her hand was cool against my brow. Mama's hands knit me bright sweaters to keep me warm. Mama's hands were clever, making our home a pleasant place. Mama's hands moved quickly rolling tortillas, Sewing on buttons, Stretching taffy. Mama's hands were gentle, Smoothing back my hair, Tapping my nose when she said look at me. Though delicate and slender, they were strong enough to conquer any task. Though they now show the passage of the years, Mama's hands are beautiful Because they are not the pampered hands of the idle But the working tools of a loving heart.

-- DeAnna Quietwater Noriega