Arra Lynn Ross
Mother Ann Tells Lucy What Gave Her Joy
A moment of understanding when the face lights up and even the trees seem to kneel. The mossy ground below a huge willow by the side of the marsh. Children who come with white faces and turn pink in the sun. The sound of sawing in the woods and the long lone hum of a boat bearing lumber down the Hudson. The sudden deer in the trees, a streak of white tail and the hoof prints filling with water. The sound of voices rounding out with grace, with trust. And rosehip tea steaming in the sun. How many times we threw off our shoes and danced together, the cool ground under our soles. And the mud! churned by feet, and horses, ox-carts and cows. The open throats and closed eyes, that red ringing inside my heart. And mornings that Lucy sang making breakfast, snatches of hymns stuck together. The long, quiet time of waiting.