"Grandmother's Kitchen" - a poem

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Verna Heckaman, wife, mother, sculptor and my grandmother, with a bust of my Grandfather, Russell E “Pat” Heckaman

My Grandmother’s kitchen,
   bright and clean as I look,
from the swinging door
   to cozy breakfast nook.
The canning at last is done,
   pears, cherries - summer’s fruit,
lining shelves beneath the stairs 
   over by the laundry chute.
Frugality was just as normal
   as the confidence upon her face,
back in a day when common sense
   was far more commonplace.



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