Elderberry Butter
by MINNA KEYSER
THE elderberry butter, quaintly tart,
She made of berries flat as rain, and sour
And wormy apples in the grass (her part
To doubly do when nature failed to flower)
She made of berries flat as rain, and sour
And wormy apples in the grass (her part
To doubly do when nature failed to flower)
And stiff as queenly silk that stands alone.
She packed a jar, scarce cooled, and homemade bread
For me to take along a road like bone
To Father plowing corn above his head.
She packed a jar, scarce cooled, and homemade bread
For me to take along a road like bone
To Father plowing corn above his head.
She waited, blue eyes dark with heat of dread.
“Your pa, what did he say? I thought he would
Make mention of the jam.” And when I said,
“He spread the butter thick and said ‘twas good,”
“Your pa, what did he say? I thought he would
Make mention of the jam.” And when I said,
“He spread the butter thick and said ‘twas good,”
She took the words and wreathed a coronet
To set upon her head; a lady yet.
To set upon her head; a lady yet.