Danielle Thorne never forgot her Yankee heritage, even as the beauty of the South shaped and influenced her paths. This is the volume of a young woman finding her way through the mire of family roots, tradition, motherhood, and the society of the South. Her poems at times are frank - but she gracefully shares the beautiful and enlightening moments we all experience, no matter where our feet must wander.
Thank you in advance for reviews.
They called Momma a damn yankee,
because she didn’t know
what to do with bacon fat.
She pulled up half the garden
before she learned the difference between
snapdragons and plain old weeds.
My step-grandmama showed her
how to use an iron skillet,
and Momma gave up show tunes for
John Denver records.
On Saturdays, she’d cut hair free
for everyone in town,
while they taught us kids to drink ice tea
and eat trout.
I forgot about Chicago,
when they sent me down the road
to that old mountain school.