She shows her love with what she does,
not so much with words.
Her home is neat and clean,
the pantry full
Jars of many colors,
raspberry sauce, green beans,
pickles, relishes, rhubarb.
She bakes biscuits, bread, coffee cake.
Bread dough rises under a white towel
smelling of olden days.
To fill me out
Grandma gives me rice mush with raisins,
sugar and top cream, rich and sweet.
I feel myself growing.
Home made doughnuts sizzle into perfection.
Grandma never sits down to eat.
She has a high stool.
When she does sit down,
she braids rag rugs or sews.
She made me a dress without a pattern.