Letters from Grace
(a found poem)
My mother taught me at an early age to be a “lady,’
to keep my dress over my knees.
I was not only the runt of the family –
but the baby by eight years –
which made me relatively an only child.
I understand about the flowers. Don’t ever forget.
My mother told me (one of my favorite stories)
that when I was one,
we were traveling to the drilling area
in the Cumberland mountains
of eastern Kentucky in a wagon
driven by my father. My 12-year-old brother
held me, and when the wagon tipped over
in the rain, he jumped off, landed in the knee-deep mud
but never once did he turn loose of me!
His adoration of me was life-long –
and mine of him.
I love you and want you to be happy
I want you to be somebody.
You won’t believe my plants
I am enjoying them so –
I don’t talk to them
(but I whisper)
You are going to write a book.
Guess where I am?
In the hospital.
