If Prepared

I’d sit & watch my Maw-Maw watch her yard

when I was a kid. She was always eying everyone

& everything—seeing it all for what it was, calling

certain folks what no one else would. Back then

I was hardly different, with my youth’s too-much-trust

that hindered. I called my father my daddy, had a fear

of tree frogs, & hadn’t yet figured out there’s nothing

of nuisance about weeds, the flowers for our kind.

I knew then the obvious: the sun’ll rise, but for no one

in particular, likely out of practice or habit. Maw-Maw,

wise to what mattered, taught me to do the same: to rise

& eye anyone who made attempt to bring trouble.

The best of lessons, for when mending lacks grace:

keep a lighter. She’d imply to be handy, to light

someone’s smokes; it was in her grin she meant

if prepared, I could burn anything down to its truth.