to see you grandmotherly slow, meandering the house across the way, sweeping up,breaking the wooden frame until soft in your arms, some might say you just know how to cook it up with love, some might say you just like to keep busy, some say you've earned sanctimonious
Yes ma'am, to watch you, makes me want to pray... to understand your secret recipe
i think the bells and glory are going off, just like stationed sirens colored in the distance
Sometimes when I am nervous I twirl a thin line of my hair. but you, you made a new case out of me. for when I noticed you coming across the lawn to see little granular me, my strains twirled themselves in their own mind as my fingers stay locked at the hip sides. I watched you come across the street slow in all your grandmotherly gait ...saw you look left then right, and with a skip of a sweet girl-scout cometh to me, straight for the jugular
Special Thanks to Kathy Donnelly and editors for publishing this blog/poetry piece in Paumanok, Interwoven.