Patterns

Look: can you see the pattern
rippling from the ceiling over my nana?
The hills have inverted themselves to stucco mountains.
She told me there is a special stamp
to push the plaster up to a ridge,
that Billy Ray did it for her.

I asked her,
what about the break in the pattern?

She is a real story-telling-nana,
told by hikes as you stamp
through the mountains.

It stops there
for a cabinet I wanted.
Billy Ray sure left his stamp
on this ceiling, he did that – that pattern.

She is all-remembering-nana,
walking around her mind ridge
that routinely outlines my home.

The letter she delivers
has a repeating pattern
like upside-down stucco mountains.
She takes it down to the doorstep, her
job is a mail-delivering-nana

carrying letters – all the same stamp.
Nothing to distract her,
maybe a walk around the ridge.
The upside-down stucco ceiling mountains
repeat like mountain-shaped stamps.

It is a pattern by which travels my nana,
delivering her mail through mountains.
Applying stamps along the ridge.

The poem above is a fitting first poem to add to this page. It explores the architecture of mountains, and the people living within them. This specific poem was inspired by my nana, but I hope you can conceptualize this nana as if she were your own, telling stories about the ceilings of her house that she knows intimately.