October extinguished itself in a rush of howling winds and driving rain and November arrived, cold as frozen iron, with hard frosts every morning and icy drafts that bit at exposed hands and faces.
my mom taught me to always pray when an ambulance passes,
she taught me that forgiveness is as essential as washing my hands.
my mother taught me to love strangers like they are my sisters
and that you always make breakfast if you have the time
she taught me that someone can destroy your heart, yet they are still worth dying for
she taught me to sleep whenever i can
and if i hardly sleep
that i can keep going anyways
because my life is worth trying every day for
she taught me not to waste food
take out boxes are nice,
so is praying for your waitress on a friday night
my mother taught me how to dance after yelling out of fits of anger,
and that, he too, is deserving of grace
we are all just people
she is teaching me that even though you grow older every day,
you never loose hope.
Peter In Blueberry Land
From a knitting pattern by Carrie Hodge in Taproot magazine