From Grandma I learn
that there is art everywhere
if only you know how to see it.
It's there in the mountian of fabric in the basement.
Ready to be cut and sewn and shaped into almost a million different things.
Depending on what you like.
It's on the side of the road in the Queen Anne's Lace,
what other's would call weed's, ready to be pressed and framed
and made into bookmarks and wall hangings.
It's on her back porch,
in the forest of potted tomato plants.
Tomatoes of every imaginable shape and color.
But this isn't just art you see..its art you
This isn't just art,
it's a miracle.
Art is in the okra growing straight up like spears into the sky,
it's in ball after ball of yarn in every possible color
if only you know how to combine them.
It's in the shape of fern leaves,
and the smell of bread.
It's there, everywhere, when you
I learned from her that there is art everywhere,
but never once did she say it.
She saw it and she taught me how to look.