Grandma said, “you catch more flies
With honey than with vinegar”
She herself was vinegar
She never made sweet things
Or said sweet words
Was she afraid of catching flies?
She said, “you already know what you did right,
So I’m here to tell you
What you did wrong.”
Sour, sour as vinegar
She lingers in my memory
As I were a fly she didn’t
Want to catch.
What vinegar lingered in her memory?
What soured her life?
Was there no sweet and nourishing hand?
Send blessings to that sour spirit.
Wish that it may find at last
Its own sweet and honeyed path.
Ingrid Asmus is a longtime Boulder resident, a lifelong student, outdoors woman and writer.