Post mortem poetry posting.

I'm often surprised to find out that I'm like my mother in a lot of ways.  (Aren't we all? ).  From her I learned to love and play with poetry.  Last week I signed up to participate in a little poetry appreciation for the town I currently live in to celebrate its 275th birthday. (More on that in a future post). This past Wednesday  I spent several hours on the computer fine-tuning and submitting the final poem for the reading.  It was my birthday and in the middle of this,  my brother David called to wish me a great day.  We don't talk much anymore so we chatted for awhile about all kinds of things and he told me he had just submitted one of our mother's poems to a Living History project .  How odd that on the day I was writing a poem about the little town I live in now, my brother posts a poem my mother wrote about the town she lived in then.  Weird.  I didn't even know my brother was interested in Mom's poetry!  How wonderful.   I'm so glad he took the intiative and submitted Mom's poem and helped it find its way back home.  I'm sure it will be enjoyed by the residents of the town today.

Here is the poem Mom wrote back in 1964 about the town of Ridgefield where they lived.  As the story goes, the poem was written for my sister to turn in as her english poetry assignment - she got an A from what I'm told. Ha.  Anyway ... Mom's poem was called

My Home, Ridgefield
                by Avis Alice Eaves

I’m in love with Ridgefield town.
So peaceful and so small.
It's building memories renown,
and I treasure each and all.
For I live high on top of a hill,
In the land of rivers and trees.
And rise up early at my will,
To see the sights like these.
Majestic mountains in the east,
Snow-capped and standing high.
Glittering lights shine in the west,
And a river boat goes by.
This is my town, my very own,
My heart and soul, they call it home.

Rest in peace Mom... we think of you often and love you much!