By Joanne Kuemmerlin
I have eaten of my grandmother’s gardens;
Cucumbers grown by a chain link fence,
Plums slowly plumped from missiles to fruit,
Homegrown tomatoes carefully preserved,
butter fried fruit with cinnamon sugar.
I have slept in my grandmother’s gardens;
Pansies and snowdrops embroidered on pillowslips,
Daisies and starflowers in cutwork and lace,
Bright colored bouquets profuse across quilt tops.
I have learned from my grandmother’s gardens;
Roses and iris - for public view,
Hollyhocks and four o’clocks for play and surprise,
Peonies and honeysuckle for private space.
I have become my grandmother’s gardens;
A springtime hyacinth showing newly found colors,
A summertime sunflower waving showy and bold,
An autumn willow… weeping, weeping…
dropping aging leaves
like gilded tears.