Gratitude...

Gratitude

My mother’s hands were slim and strong
for 40 years they
dressed November turkey.
and for weeks before
they busied…
polishing wood, metal and glass
in preparation for the day of feast
and the family who would stuff our house.

Grandmother’s hands were small and soft
She would come and help ready…
washing china
ironing linens
the air was filled with the smell of beeswax and
the music of maternal voices,
reminiscing the years when Grandmother hosted the meal.

My hands capably carry the weight of tradition
heavier than the biggest bird.
I polish and clean and iron,
Greet visitors with a thankful heart
and cast a sideways glance…

My daughters hands are unseamed and nimble
I am awash with grace to dream of
she who will carry her heritage on an ironstone platter
of gratitude

Copy write 2005 Daryl Conner