Poem: “The Crook of Your Arm”


By Lynn Henion


Today, my son,
I glimpsed inside your eye
the first dawning,
Your subtle recognition
of my mortality.


We walked through the gardens
chattering in shorthand
and laughing, really,
the way only family can.
Even the rain felt good.


Yet, only a short time ago
you barely held your impatience back,
checking your watch
on your naked wrist, Eyes darting,
into your guarded thoughts.


But today, as I began to fade
and tire from the steep hill,
you gently took my hand
and tucked it,
into the crook of your arm.


And with all the patience
and protectiveness of a grown son,
you assisted me up the incline
and over the precarious stones.


Has the cycle begun?


And I am struck,
by a strange sadness
as your maturity grows,
and your privacy prohibits
my presence – deservedly so.


As well I see
how life shields you
from my years, from my heart,
as we walk together,
moving further and further apart.


All moments slip away – but today
time slowed into the rain
as I recall your sweet charm,
and my happiness
tucked inside,
the crook of your arm.




Lynn Henion


I have been gone a few years from Asheville and recently returned to live here again. I am so happy to be back in the mountains. I wrote this poem last year, when my son took me to the Biltmore gardens for mother’s day.

Sandi Tomlin-Sutker
Written by Sandi Tomlin-Sutker