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Aunt Mae Hall taught
me life skills.
She taught me
to pass the weft
over the warp
weaving a pattern.
Aunt Mae taught me
the song of generations.
She taught me
to twine, twill,
choose a color scheme;
create my own shape.
Aunt Mae taught me strength.
She taught me
to gather willow
beside Fontana River,
boil the bark;
making it soft and strong.
Aunt Mae taught me pride.
She taught me
to correct my mistakes,
weave each row again,
preseve my mountain heritage;
to make a basket.
This poem first appeared in The Reach of Song (Georgia Poetry Society).
Used here with the author's permission.
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Brenda Kay Ledford is a blogger, author, and poet in Hayesville, North Carolina who writes about her Southern Appalachian heritage. She enjoys nature and this theme is often included in her work, which has earned her the Paul Green Award a dozen times from the NC Society of Historians. Brenda’s hobbies include photography, playing the piano and harmonica, writing, and hiking. Learn more about her at http://blueridgepoet.blogspot.com.
    
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Wilda Morris:
A lovely tribute.
Posted 06/05/2024 04:43 PM
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erinsnana:
I like this a lot also!
Posted 06/05/2014 11:03 AM
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Cindy:
nice job
Posted 06/05/2014 09:28 AM
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Larry Schug:
I feel like you carry Aunt Mae in the basket of your heart. I like this poem a lot.
Posted 06/05/2014 07:41 AM
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Dorcas:
I like that. To correct the weave of your basket.
Posted 06/05/2014 06:14 AM
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