Chewing the cud and serving up Jersey sauce with a dash of Vermont wisdom.
She would set the house ready
Whisking away winter‘s grime,she wiped the windows of our souls clean,then poured the used-up water on the roots of a backyard forsythia
Lenten offerings made in silence
I recall the bulb, its fragrance like a prayer, leaves firm pointed toward heaven
A scent not unlike her ownall my springs ever since