Three Short Poems from the Garden of my Grandmother’s Mind

I have often written and spoken of influences..

Photo by Erda Estremera on Unsplash

Born a MacGregor in Highland, West Virginia, with roots as deep as the oak, sword and crown of our MacGregor crest…

Elizabeth Gregg MacGregor eloped with Grant Ferrell Sandy on September 3, 1925. To each of her four children she gave a love of learning. A voracious reader with a brilliant mind, her home was filled with books. Where other houses placed wainscoting she had installed bookshelves. One room in her home was floor to ceiling bookshelves and nothing else, other than the books that occupied them. She introduced me to poetry, art and the world of ideas.

Her imagination was as vast as the sky and her soul deep as the ocean. She never stopped seeking understanding. She never stopped asking “Why?” 
She was well acquainted with injustice and pain, but never gave in to bitterness. What she gave to me was a gift I have cherished for a lifetime, a restless curiosity to know more, understand more, live more.


Here are three poems she wrote that might serve to give a glimpse of her spirit and wit.

Aftermath Of A Stroke

Here I lie, tight packed as in my Mother’s womb 
I laid with restlessness a full lifetime ago.
But still entirely I, altho I have no room
To move about and at my will to come and go.
But now — I wander, freely in my mind
The long road thru the crowding mists of time,
And pause in my journeying now and then
To live the happy times again
Made bright indeed by sunset’s glow!

Dogwood

The dogwood will bloom again
Whether I be there or not.
The warm winds will blow, 
The spring rains will flow,
Wherever I am I will know
That the dogwood is blooming again.

Romance

When I was young and beautiful
I thought I was in love — 
The moon was made for such as I
And all the stars above!
 
The days swam by in ecstasy — 
I never paused to sigh — 
Of all the mortals on this earth
The happiest was I!
 
Oh, who could dream it was a trap
That nature set for me?
That propagation might not cease 
And mortals still should be?
 
When I was young and beautiful
I had a great romance — 
But now — I’m darning little socks
And mending little pants!