Pinehurst

Golf town
sand and spa
pines and pubs
coddled traditions and legends
around every corner

My Grand-mere
always spoke of azaleas
sparkles in her milky eyes
and soft hands around
a pottery cup of chicory coffee

another time
another place
another south

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This poem is a second one that I wrote for the photo, with the villanelle being shared on Tupelo Press’ website for this month’s 30/30 project. It’s been a journey!! I don’t know what’s been harder: writing the poems and submitting them daily, or trying my hand at fundraising. PHEW.

I’m thrilled to report, however, that thanks to the gorgeous generosity of a few friends I am super close to meeting my goal. I’m double excited about this because of the zine I’m going to make donors as a reward; I’ve decided I’m going to include some other pieces that I only have shared so far on Medium, too, since they suit the general theme. Yay for making something in print!

There’s still time to get in on the party if you have $30 you can spare (or less, or more – but $30 will get you the zine!) HERE IS THE LINK TO DONATE.

Pinehurst Village is a beautiful place. I can’t think about golf without thinking about my maternal grandmother, my Grand-mere. She loved the sport! I know azaleas are a Masters thing and that takes places somewhere besides North Carolina, but still: golf = Grand-mere, and Grand-mere loved to see the azaleas on TV during that tournament every year.

Readers, thank you!