Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Flour Sack Towels......

I wasn't born in Brooklyn,
Boston, or San Francisco -
or somewhere equally as interesting,
with its well-storied, cobblestone streets
and brownstones.
I was born on the flatland prairies
of the Midwest.
Flyover fodder for coastal trendies.
A place where John Deere tractors rumble.
The smell of hot iron and grease
is thick and slick as rain
on the welder's floor.
The furrows in fields deep enough
to grow the seeds of children.
No city girl, I gently fold and store 
flour sack towels like a grandmother.
These domestic cloths are all about
where you come from, who you are,
and where you are going. They travel light,
but their handiwork is heavy. 
 Cheryl Weibye Wilke
Poet and Children's Author


DJan said...

And here I thought you were talking about yourself, until I got to the end. I should have realized! :-)

Red said...

Well, I think I saw few flour sack dish towels. the fabric was a little on the course side.

genie said...

I, too, was starting to think you were talking about yourself but it just didn’t feel right, my friend. I have never heard of flour sack towels, but I would love to have some. So old timey.