Gentle Hills

These one hundred forty-one poems are the voice of a woman who loved God, life, her children, and the beautiful small town of Logan, Ohio, where she was born and lived. Here are short, lovely poems that will warm your heart, bring a smile to your face, and a nod of appreciation for a point well made. The author saw magic and grace in the events of a seemingly ordinary life. These poems express her appreciation for the extraordinary in every small thing, if one only takes the time to look for it. No deep philosophical poems here, instead these are poems that will touch your heart, your spirit, and your soul. As you read these poems you can picture the author sitting in her garden, with her cat and her flowers around her. She wrote about what she knew, saw, and loved: Albert (her gold cat), children and grandchildren, tea parties, getting older, Christmas, Easter, thunder & wind-stars and storms, the herb woman, the rocking chair, Mr. McCarty Is Dead, Dee's pillow and even a Tea Party and The Star Quilt. TEA PARTY When I was very young My grandmother served me tea In delicate, hand-painted cups. We talked of this and that And I felt so very grown-up. Today, a gracious old lady Served me tea and petites fours, Called me a dear child, And I, with grown-up children of my own, Felt so very young, once more. THE STAR QUILT By the year 1866, Young John Hutchinson had come home From the war, Cleared some land And gotten the log house built. That was the year His wife, Julie Ann, started to make Her star quilt. She used scraps of material, Like bits of the rainbow, Gathered from cousins and aunts, Near and far. Then carefully cut Into two hundred and thirty-five Small eight-sided stars. When it was time to quilt Her grandmother came From three farms down And Aunt Jessie came from town To help and gently chide If the stitches weren't small and neat And side by side. Off and on All winter long The women worked when chores were thru And as their busy fingers flew Grandma told them tales Of long ago, When her grandfather first came here And it was all forestland. And where Uncle Willy's barn now stands There was an Indian camp. So they would talk and sew Until the sputtering of the lamp Told them it was time to go. Julie Ann loved her star quilt And later on, Her children loved it, too. It passed down thru the family And for ages seemed like new. It warmed many a small child And chased away The winter's chill. Yet in all her dreams Never did she guess That one day her quilt would hang On the wall of a great museum, A thing of beauty still, Tho' faded now and worn. How proud she'd be To see this day And hear all that the people have to say About her old star quilt That she made in 1866, The year John got the log house built.