Thank God for menial chores. ~A. Florette Strickland, 1901-1981
The broom whisks back and forth
chasing particles of dirt and leaf litter back outside.
Thank God for menial chores.
Memories cradle my sorrow
In the quiet space where there is no silence.
Thank God for menial chores, my grandmother said.
Sweep the floor, cook the rice, pay the bill, fax the letter.
Choreograph emotion into a dance of grace
because of,
in spite of,
the fact that I am still standing among the living.
On to my menial chores,
where I can meet my grandmother and my father
in the quiet.
Shoots, Roots, and Leaves 
This took my breath away. I’ve copied it to post in my kitchen. Thank you!
I am humbled by your praise. Thank you.
Kay
Your poem is very touching and encourages deep thought. Yes, we did have a family reunion at Duke and Norman enjoyed every second of it that he was awake. We all gained strength from each other. I am sure the rules were bent or we would have been asked to leave. Thanks for remembering and posting. Love you!! Betty
I am so glad that you were touched by my words.
Love you back.
Kay