At her little stove
in the kitchen corner,
Granny turns the handle
of the eggbeater
as fast as she can
in a double boiler
she has concocted
from one saucepan inside
a larger saucepan.
Her cheeks grow rosy
as scant air reaches her
from the box fan on the floor
or through the back screen door
on this windless summer day.

Granny is making
my favorite frosting.
I try to hurry the process.
When will it be done, Granny?
Why do you use two pans?
Why is it taking so long?
Can I help ice the cake?
Granny is patient,
answers all my questions,
never says hush now,
run along,
She beats it for seven
long, long minutes
into snow white peaks,
hands me the beater to lick.


© by Melanie Harless.
Used with the author’s permission.