Mary, you are the bird inside the hand Of St. Francis, in the garden where he stands Handwriting, a birth mark and a quilt Mother to my mother and to me and to me Mary, you are the mason jars in spring The kitchen with the view across a hill First memory is a Bible in song The organ while my family sings along We sing along And on the calendar when I leave A little note for you, so you see When I'm gone, I never go too far Your heart is my heart Your blood, my blood When I'm gone, I never get too far Mother to my mother and to me