Description
These one hundred forty-one poems are the voice of a woman who loved God, life, her children, and the beautiful small town of Logan, Ohio, where she was born and lived. Here are short, lovely poems that will warm your heart, bring a smile to your face, and a nod of appreciation for a point well made. The author saw magic and grace in the events of a seemingly ordinary life. These poems express her appreciation for the extraordinary in every small thing, if one only takes the time to look for it.
No deep philosophical poems here, instead these are poems that will touch your heart, your spirit, and your soul. As you read these poems you can picture the author sitting in her garden, with her cat and her flowers around her. She wrote about what she knew, saw, and loved: Albert (her gold cat), children and grandchildren, tea parties, getting older, Christmas, Easter, thunder & wind—stars and storms, the herb woman, the rocking chair, Mr. McCarty Is Dead, Dee’s pillow and even a Tea Party and The Star Quilt.
TEA PARTY
When I was very young
My grandmother served me tea
In delicate, hand-painted cups.
We talked of this and that
And I felt so very grown-up.
Today, a gracious old lady
Served me tea and petits fours,
Called me a dear child,
And I, with grown-up children of my own,
Felt so very young, once more.
THE STAR QUILT
By the year 1866,
Young John Hutchinson had come home
From the war,
Cleared some land
And gotten the log house built.
That was the year
His wife, Julie Ann, started to make
Her star quilt.
She used scraps of material,
Like bits of the rainbow,
Gathered from cousins and aunts,
Near and far.
Then carefully cut
Into two hundred and thirty-five
Small eight-sided stars.
When it was time to quilt
Her grandmother came
From three farms down
And Aunt Jessie came from town
To help and gently chide
If the stitches weren't small and neat
And side by side.
Off and on
All winter long
The women worked when chores were thru
And as their busy fingers flew
Grandma told them tales
Of long ago,
When her grandfather first came here
And it was all forestland.
And where Uncle Willy's barn now stands
There was an Indian camp.
So they would talk and sew
Until the sputtering of the lamp
Told them it was time to go.
Julie Ann loved her star quilt
And later on,
Her children loved it, too.
It passed down thru the family
And for ages seemed like new.
It warmed many a small child
And chased away
The winter's chill.
Yet in all her dreams
Never did she guess
That one day her quilt would hang
On the wall of a great museum,
A thing of beauty still,
Tho’ faded now and worn.
How proud she'd be
To see this day
And hear all that the people have to say
About her old star quilt
That she made in 1866,
The year John got the log house built.