Pot Pies, Mud Pies and Me
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It was summer in the mountains,
Daisies, bees and poison ivy surrounding
The little creek where my feet swung down,
Swaying gently over the trickling water…
Betraying the heat with its coolness,
Its calm – serene like the world where I came from,
A world of laughter, beauty and grace…
Where granny worked and prayed,
Where mama didn’t see any shame in repenting
For sins that were taken away by the Savior,
The grace that remained when He went to heaven
To await the day when we would come to stay
With Him, in paradise… in praise, in eternity
Fading into the summer praises, the lupines
In colors of elaborate violet – dusty rose delphiniums,
Imperial hues of breathless roses, blushing beauties
Brilliant and bright, hoping for the moment when rain
Bruises the petals and suggests to them a joy
Far beyond the miracles invading breathless whispers,
Rainfall moments and sun, so alive it feels nearly timeless,
Blessing the leaves, silently fawning – mysteries
While all the world searches for the wonders of these
Gracious colors, admiring – honoring the beautiful,
My little cousin eating pies I created
With two chubby hands, pies two times the size
Of the pot pie pans that taught me the meaning of
Recycling… they were leftover trinkets from a mother
Who believed in me, she’d found her reason
But me … I was only happy to know the freedom
Creating mud pies on the banks of a creek that treated
Me like the wish for giggles, the craving for fanciful
Dreams who walk away from the heart
Misty eyed and prayerful, erasing the lost
Hopes, replacing them with promises
For a coloring book life… made from joy and hope,
Kindness that fills up the soul, a wildness
That comes from being that little girl who grows
Cousins from the mud pies she baked in the sun,
Urging them to gorge themselves with…
And, they still loved her, despite her baking skills!
Copyright © Regina Mcintosh | Year Posted 2023
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