poetpotter

Have you ever thought about the things less tangible, things you cannot touch or package, but just enjoy? This was part of my muse one day. Undeliverables I can bring you a ripe tomato a love letter written with my own hand I can bring a friend to sit with you a bowl of soup a litany of forgiveness, but I cannot deliver the sunrise over a lake the dew upon the flowers; you have to go and see it for yourself I cannot bring the thousands of miles we travelled together or the hurts of the journey; those would be too heavy to carry and you wouldn’t want them anyway the undeliverables that even a grocery man cannot package Carolyn R. Wilker Tower Poetry, winter 2015-2016 Volume 64, No. 2

My grandmother whom I write of here, mother of my own mom, has been gone from us more than 30 years now,  mere months after she held our youngest newborn daughter. As I spend time now with my older granddaughters who are 7 and 9 years of age, in the kitchen or elsewhere, I remember spending time with my grandmother. In her kitchen, after she moved off the farm. Enjoy! Kitchen Talk                                                                                                                                  While my grandmother and I made pancakes she talked of home starting with the sifting of flour into the bowl continuing through the cracking of eggs and measuring milk Fast as her spoon stirred all this talk of sisters and hijinks like the ingredients had loosed her tongue She was silent for awhile as if she had let out one too many secrets in her kitchen spiced with sausage and sauerkraut and geraniums flowering in summer windows Poured b