by Julia Kasdorf
We keep our quilts in closets and do not dance.
We hoe thistles along fence rows for fear
we may not be perfect as our Heavenly Father.
We clean up his disasters. No one has to
call; we just show up in the wake of tornadoes
with hammers, after floods with buckets. . . (Read entire)
Another Julia Kasdorf poem -- “Onion, Fruit of Grace” -- was the daily poem in the Writer’s Almanac a few day ago, and reminded me how much I like Julia Kasdorf’s writing. I can especially relate to "Mennonites," above, seeing as this is also my ethnic background. In fact, I find from this article, that Julia Kasdorf even claims to be of the specific branch of Mennonite heritage (Mennonite Brethren) that I grew up in. (Does that mean I qualify for reflected glory or what?! )
Some other poems by Julia Kasdorf:
The Baby Screaming in the Back Seat (page 15 of this 32-page .pdf file)