I only just learned of the death of poet Wilma Elizabeth McDaniel. An icon of Okie resiliance, tale-telling, and creativity. My mom was an Okie and my people remain on her side of the family largely there and in the west. It gave me a certain affinity for her poems.
PIES
In 1933
hope for the future
did not grow as fast
as FDR had predicted
Papa’s hope for a job
did not grow at all
About all that grew
was mulberries—
back of our house
along the creek
in deepest shade
the biggest berries
I ever saw
bursting juicy dark.
They made good pies
in those hard times
Some women complained
the fruit was too bland.
“Add a little vinegar”Mama said
“and they will taste like blackberries
and look the same
when you cut the pie”
I remember when Papa took
his first bite of pie
he got a crinkle of hope
around his eyes.
~ Wilma Elizabeth McDaniel, 1925 - 2007
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