Grandmother (mountain woman)

Deep-rooted

I may not have been born in the mountains, but my sister and I spent a lot of time there, as you may remember from my poems about our visits to Grandma Hatfield’s house. Those mountains remain in my spirit and my soul, and reside in my DNA!

Remembering: a Project

The childhood memories I hold need space to move around on the page, to reveal themselves. Therefore, I have decided to start a project writing poems based on events from childhood, chiefly poems of time spent in Kentucky, West Virginia, and Maine, with family. This photo is a rough draft of a poem about Blackberry

This Music

For my great-grandma Ratliff…. (Photo by my father, Lowell D. Hatfield)

I remember this (Ft. Myers, FL, 1999) for Dad

This poem took a few weeks to come together, since it meant so much to me. It’s about the last time I saw my father, at his house in Florida, before he passed away. It was a magical visit. I will always remember it. I hope you like this poem, and that is resonates with