The Opening

by Elaine Blanchard

Blue and white morning glories
Climbed the wire fence,
Separating my own back yard from Ouida’s.
Don’t know who planted the vines,
Nor do I know who made the fence.
I do know who snipped and snapped,
Thick work gloves on her hands,
Wire-pliers bit ‘til a way was formed
Just for me to step through.
Her yard was alive with blossoms and birds.
Sweet peas stood tall in a variety of colors.
She knew about nurturing plants, dogs, children…
And kept a clear path from that fence to her back door.
Called me by name
when I appeared for our daily visit.
Ouida rocked by the stove in her kitchen,
back and forth, listening with love.
It was her calling.
I know about Love’s welcome.
I have known Ouida.