My mother is my home

Woken up by the howling of foxes

Terror swept my body

I clutched the blanket and stayed under until my breath ran out.

My mother nudged me and my sisters.

Wrapped around the blankets

We took a peep outside from our wooden window

Like the freshly baked bun in the cafe counter

Under the wings of my mother.

In the flickering light, I saw figures escaping

We saw a family of foxes from our wooden windows,

We huddled together and conversed

These were mothers and their cubs.

The fox hunting food for its offspring

Trying to keep them alive,

Like my mother kept us in comfort

Away from misery and despair.

In the depth of the winter nights

Discerning my mother is there

Holding these recollections breathing,

It’s some of my glorious riches.