preservation

 

hands stained with beet juice

reminds me of Granny,

learning at her elbow

how to pickle all those veggies needed for winter

from the days she learned from her granny

when her father would bring elk to the house

to feed the family,

guts in buckets for the wild ones,

jacket smelling of smoke from roll-your-owns,

hiding the smell of blood with cinnamon

baking with apples.

 

these days,

the ruddy dye brings a tremor to my heart

to recall her and how much I miss her.

(c) r. l. elke