Grandma Woof

Grandma Woof

Grandma Woof,
always had some implement
of creative usefulness
in her hands.

The knitting needles,
flashing through skein,
after skein.
Sweaters for all 24 grandkids
one Christmas.
Little sweaters for each
new baby that joined the family.
Knitted snakes,
and puppets
appearing on birthdays.

The tatting hook,
filling Christmas cards
that crossed the globe
with lace snowflakes
scattered on loved-ones trees.

The brushes,
that spread the cobalt blue
and cadmium red
as the mountains glow,
and flowers emerge on the paper.

The embroidery needle,
that attached each strand of hair,
the tiny buttons
and lips
and eyes,
noses and
whiskers
on the faces of
each finger puppet.

The potato masher,
the wooden spoons,
the silver forks,
and canning tools.

The pens that signed
the letters filled
with stories of
squirrels and
garden finds,
always ending with,
love Grandma Woof.

The pencils that sketched,
the draft of Sunday School lessons,
projects,
insights,
and lists.
And the notes in the margins
of each book she absorbed.

The trowel,
shovel,
pitchfork
and sheers.
Bringing up garden beans,
pruning apple trees,
gathering the back-eyed Susan’s.

Usefulness and beauty,
special gifts and daily care.
Love flowed from her fingertips
as each implement wove
a signature into the
tapestry of a creative life.