DARCY R. LEWIS
About Darcy R. Lewis
Indian turquoise grandmother
totes a pistol by the Redbud creek.
Granny with her skin like soft leather
over the river stones of her cheeks.
Driving her mustang over mountains.
Riding him hard all the way
over miles and miles uncounting
through fields slowly turning to hay.
And the sound of her voice with a guitar
as she runs her hands over the strings.
Songs fall from her mouth like stars
manzanita seems to bloom as she sings.
Now she lies on the mountain unbroken
under the land where she rode
earth wild like her, and so open
turns white beneath the first snow.
© 2003, Darcy R. Lewis
Darcy writes: This poem began as a tribute to my unique grandmother, and then became the story of someone I've never known.
About Darcy R. Lewis:
Darcy was born into the legacy of a small town family, but spent four years living in the big city while pursuing a degree from UCLA. The influence of her artistic, gypsy mother and her insightful, jack-of-all-trades father allows Darcy to find poetry everywhere in her life.
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