Aroma of Tobacco

Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #284

Words:  crooked, sky, hole, tobacco, there, wise, first, grandmother, plants, world, eaves

Grandmother planted tobacco.
First woman to grow her own. Smoked
it too, in a crooked corncob pipe,
wiped clean each night by Grandfather.

Grandfather loved to cook.
There he would be, stirring
a stew, checking seasonings.
He enjoyed pleasing Grandmother.
Thought she was wisest woman
in the whole world.

Evenings spent on porch,
Grandfather strumming
a banjo, Grandmother singing
along. Owls, eavesdropping
under a moon-filled sky,
watched curls of tobacco
smoke sail through the air.

About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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8 Responses to Aroma of Tobacco

  1. Jae Rose says:

    Such a rich story – beautifully circled – like those smoke rings


  2. seingraham says:

    I especially like the owls eavesdropping; can picture all of this.


  3. colonialist says:

    The words fall effortlessly into the descriptions. Interesting bit of traditional role reversal!


  4. Pat B says:

    This sounds like a beautifully written bit of history from some of Appalachia areas.


Comments are closed.