Oxheart (memoir)

Cherry blossoms under my mother's window.
Everyone called her Oxheart.
Viburnum is already growing in that place,
But I will not forget that the berries are delicious.

She abounded with flowers in the spring,
I was absorbed in them, as if in a wreath
And bees flew from everywhere,
They performed a fun dance.

The starlings looked maliciously from above,
They waited for the berries to ripen,
They stole cherries from the top of the tree,
But the tastiest were the little ones!

For the youngest, they plucked the ripest ones,
But they were all huge.
The parents themselves were only happy about that,
That their children were happy.

Do those berries look like an ox's heart?
No one has answered me since then.
I have that generosity and love for children
It reminds me of a mother's heart.

(V. Davydova 01/28/2021)