Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!
each winter
Each winter
just as the first of the snow begins to fall,
my mother goes home to South Carolina.
Sometimes,
my father goes with her but mostly,
he doesn't.
So she gets on the bus alone.
The first year with one,
the second year with two,
and finally with three children, Hope and Dell hugging
each leg and me
in her arms. Always
there is a fight before she leaves.
Ohio
is where my father wants to be
but to my mother
Ohio will never be home,
no matter
how many plants she brings
indoors each winter, singing softly to them,
the lilt of her words a breath
of warm air moving over each leaf.
In return, they hold on to their color
even as the snow begins to fall. A reminder
of the deep green South. A promise
of life
somewhere.
Written by Jacqueline Woodson
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