Grandma's Grace a poem by Barbara Hilal The smell of the pies and turkey cooking It is like she is here for you and for me Surprising with  meringue on her sweet  potato pies She put eggs in the dressing, a delight to see   The margarine was white, it looked like lard In plastic,with a little pellet of yellow She would let me mix it cause it wasn't hard to knead the bag and mix the color   1234 cake, smells like pound cake baking 1 cup milk 2 cups oleo  3 cups of flour 4 eggs   Crispy light brown layers 30 minutes in the making She always made it a jelly cake 6 pie tins baked  crisp around the edges Spread with raspberry jelly, cut in wedges   I added the milk to the ice cream mix She made it in trays in the old fridge Breaking up the brick like milk with a fork Then a finger in the cake bowl to get the last smidge   Baking her corn bread for the dressing Lots of turkey stock, giblets boiling Celery onion smells fill the air A smile on her face no sign of toiling   Cabbage cooked with  sweet Vidalia onions Potatoes mashed and whipped with a fork Cranberry sauce out of the can Fresh snap beans cooked in pork   Her black hair combed back from her smiling face Her white  apron, the  strings wrapped neatly around How I  long  for a smell and just  for a taste of Grandma's gift of Thanksgiving grace