Grandma’s Table

Grandma’s Table

Grandma’s table stood heavy
And watched within the room.
Its weight of yams and beans,
Turkey and fruit,
Soon to be ours.
The hours and gravy
passed our plates.
We bowed
And ate her love.

Long-watched apples in sauces
And peas shelled by worn thumbs
Spoke of care as we feasted
And made the table light,
Nourished by a labored life,
A mind well-tempered and spacious
With poems and tales
And memories.

Humor and wit, dancing eyes
Gave a grandson his world.
The past lived with me
But did not intrude,
Because her gift,
a kindly spirit of fire,
Kindled hope to pleasure
Against life’s grayness.

The flowered wall in a world gone white.
The world lost grace, but not so
The fragile rose upon the empty
Table, standing now in a silent room.

—Daniel Dovenbarger ’79