My mother has recently come back home from hospital. As she slowly regains her strength I too regain my lightness of spirit, in simple (or are they?) joys.
A quiet cup of tea
outside on a wooden bench
as birds sing up the sun,
others sleeping,
warm-nested in bed.
A butterfly dancing,
black and orange wings
fluttering fantastically,
unafraid it hovers
and settles on a nearby
bright purple flower.
The tentative form of
my now-skinny mum,
fledgling steps in the kitchen,
she directs the making of lasagne,
my heart bursting with joy
as her hands grasp a dish,
hesitate,
then lift it surely
and place it on a table-
the chef awakening.
Inky Cat's Poems 
So happy to hear of these tender tendrils of convalescence… I was thinking of you all, and wondering how you were getting on. And now I know, and can smell the lasagne! { hug }
Thank you! Slowly and steadily coming into a time of recovery.