Grandmother's Blanket
By Ann Murray Smith

Grandmother's Blanket holds the sweet smell of sage
Woven by enchantment, as the Spirits feel no rage.
Trimmed in eyelet shadows, cast into the snow
Tumbleweeds and deserts She traveled long ago.
The threads are Her wisdom She passes on to you,
Reflections wrap around us, as if we always knew.
The patchwork shows directions North, East, South, West
The needle points the way so we know when to rest.
Grandmother's Blanket holds the soft warmth of down
From fine-feathered friends and foliage all around.
Covered by a breeze and a soft summer rain
Lightning dances wildly, as the Thunder heals Her pain.
The colors are Her passions beneath the cotton lining
For She knows the Spirit world, is free and never binding.
Footsteps walk below the soil, Mother Earth is listening
Frost paints the Blanket edges, above the stars are glistening.
Grandmother's Blanket has many stories to tell
The colors have faded, for the years have turned it pale.
Comforted by the Oneness, Her head bows down in grace,
Thanking Great Spirit for Her Honor in this place.