CROCHETING: A Poem about My Maternal Grandmother

 My Babci: Anna Chalupka Kozicka

CROCHETING
By Elaine Magliaro

The crowns of blossoming fruit trees

are pink and white clouds.
We sit under the apple tree,
petals falling around us like spring snow.
Nearby Babci relaxes in the wide Adirondack chair
crocheting an earth-brown afghan
for our summertime picnics.
Her nimble fingers dance
as she hooks and loops
the dark yarn into intricate designs.
From a single strand
she creates a lacy island
where we will float
on a sea of soft green grass
near Dzidzi’s garden,
eating ham sandwiches,
crunching homemade pickles,
savoring our summer afternoons.

 

 

Why I chose to post this poem today: We have had some fine summer weather here this week--sunny, warm, breezy, and dry. Two days ago, my older granddaughter asked if we could have a picnic in our yard. I thought it was a wonderful idea! I lay down a blanket on the lawn in the shade of our old ash tree. Julia and Ali and I had a lovely lunch of red grapes, fontina cheese, and yogurt. The next day, we did it again. My husband joined us for our picnic this time. In addition to grapes, cheese, and yogurt, we had some leftover shrimp and pasta with pesto sauce that I had made with basil from our garden. The girls gobbled up the pasta! Our picnics brought back memories of some of the childhood days that I spent at the home of my beloved maternal grandparents.

Years ago, I wrote a collection of memoir poems about my Babci and Dzidzi. Babci loved to crochet and make food for and feed her family. She also canned fruits and vegetables from their garden. One of her specialties was homemade piccalilli.

My Babci is the one on the right.

 

**********

Jone has the Poetry Friday Roundup at Check It Out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Statue in the Park Poem

Laura Purdie Salas wrote on her blog that the Poetry Princess challenge (her choice) for this month was "a poem of any kind, mood, or topic to go with the title 'Statues in the Park.'"

I am no "Poetry Princess"--but when I heard about this challenge, it brought to mind a poem that I wrote about the George Washington statue that is displayed in Boston's Public Garden. I wrote the poem about thirty-five years ago. I don't know where the poem is at the moment so I am doing my best to write it down from memory.

 

Statue in the Park
by Elaine Magliaro

In the city park, I know

a famous man from long ago.
Astride his horse, George Washington--
father of his countrymen--
tall, majestic, cast in bronze,
he guards the Public Garden's swans,
benches, and the tulip beds...
with pigeons sitting on his head.

**********

 

Donna has the Poetry Friday Roundup at Mainely Write.