Nourished by Her Offering

She wrote of caged birds learning to sing
And we came along,
Wanting a piece of the wisdom
She served like an apple pie
Fresh from the oven,
So sweet that every bite stayed on our tongues
Long after the evening meal was done,

She rolled love, compassion and grace into
A golden crust and we tasted them
As if for the very first time,
Nourished with the grains of truth
That flavored and spiced her offering,

When nighttime came for her,
And we knew the pie would never be served again,
We wept knowing the nourishment
Was essential to our being,
And craved just one more piece
Prepared by her loving,
hopeful, forgiving hands.

Written in memory of Maya Angelou (April 4, 1928 – May 28, 2014)