I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” -Maya Angelou
Like grandma’s shawl, the old, worn farmhouse
tucked into Appalachia's hills always gave me comfort,
even when spring rains flooded the stream bed,
more than once licked it’s wet, swollen tongue along the rear porch.
Black snakes and such slithered from beneath
seeking higher ground; even the goats and mules
grazed their way up pasture hills. Frightened me near to death
but Grandma always said, “Have faith” and I swear
if the waters didn’t recede. Secretly I likened her to Moses,
as at her word, miracles seemed to happen.
The one Christmas I stayed with Grandma,
she collected pine boughs, wove them together,
draped long looping swags across the warped wooden house,
hummed a mix of hymns as she lit single candles
in each window. Beneath thousands of twinkling stars,
we stood on the winding, dirt road that ribboned past her farmstead
and admired the most holy of nights, Grandma’s threadbare shawl
securely wrapped about us both.
by Margaret Bednar, December 28
This is written for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Play it Again". I selected "A Gift of Wisdom from Maya Angelou"