Woman Work

by Maya Angelou

I've got the children to tend

The clothes to mend
The floor to mop
The food to shop
Then the chicken to fry
The baby to dry
I got company to feed
The garden to weed
I've got shirts to press
The tots to dress
The cane to be cut
I gotta clean up this hut
Then see about the sick
And the cotton to pick.

Shine on me, sunshine
Rain on me, rain
Fall softly, dewdrops
And cool my brow again.

Storm, blow me from here
With your fiercest wind
Let me float across the sky
'Til I can rest again.

Fall gently, snowflakes
Cover me with white
Cold icy kisses and
Let me rest tonight.

Sun, rain, curving sky
Mountain, oceans, leaf and stone
Star shine, moon glow
You're all that I can call my own.

This week I had my students read this poem in the online Experience of Literature course I'm teaching. It's so interesting hearing their responses. Some talk about how the speaker is a slave, or a very poor woman. Others say no one could ever work so hard. And while I certainly think you can read the poem as the perspective of a slave or struggling woman, it's always seemed to me to be a pretty accurate picture of motherhood--and the restorative powers of nature.