Contributor Series 8: Feast and Famine
Mother’s Pastry
By Jeanette Gallagher
Mother’s pastry was a work of art
Painted with the gentle touch of a master
Fingers taking flight across the dough
A pianist who shaped the chords
While she conducted a symphony
Led without the need for words
The harmony of a symbiotic relationship
Between she and her creation
Like a mother breastfeeding her child
Our home was filled with the aroma
Of pies baking and bubbling over
With sweetness of love and surprise
Pecan, butterscotch, coconut creme,
Chocolate, lemon meringue, and blueberry
Or peach cobbler, strawberry in season
Fried pies with fresh fruit in summer
Dropped in deep fat of butter and lard
Sprinkled heavy with crystals of sugar
For picnics she created chess tarts
Each with the symmetry of poetry
And music that played on heartstrings
She baked pies to sing her love
Nurturing in the way she knew
Sharing her gift of family harmony
Those days have passed with her
Memories are sweet as yesterday
Mother’s blessing still loving today
Jeanette Gallagher’s most recent poem to appear at vox poetica was Revelations (March 2011).
This is filled with nostalgia of days with Mom. I know most people wouldn’t have two Jeanette’s in one immediate family, but my mouth is watering.Your tribute sounds delightful.
Oh, Jeanette…no words needed for this singing tribute.