Here, dears, a runner for your unity flame
pieced from our hope chests, Indian baskets, hearts,
for yours. The way we save for rites in our name —
here, dear, a runner for your unity flame.
Joined ribbon, lace, crocheted, embroidered and sewn,
from your grandmother’s and great aunts’ homestead arts —
here, dears, a runner for your unity flame,
pieced from our hope chests. Indian baskets. Hearts.
Patricia Ranzoni writes from one of the violet–rooted subsistence farms of her youth, where she practices the homestead and woodland arts. Each spring she makes a tonic with a cup of wild violets simmered to syrup stage with equal amounts of fresh lemon juice and sugar, which she takes a couple teaspoons at a time in cups of steaming tea, medicinally or simply for pleasure. She also makes a salve with violet and other first wild blossoms of the season, steeped in almond oil and thickened with bees wax, which is her family's favorite healing balm for its spring growth properties. This poem is from her new collection, Bedding Vows: Love Poems from Outback Maine,
to be published by North Country Press. Her writing history can be found at
her PW.org page.