Buttoned Up

While sipping

the last of the pinon coffee,

and wondering when

my order for more would arrive,

I recalled my grandmother

saving coffee grounds

as nourishment for her garden.


She saved



She reused

the tin fruit cake container

as a button collection canister.


“My button box,” she called it.


I see 

myself reverently empty the contents  

onto her bedroom rug, sit cross-legged,

carefully considering each button:

celluloid, mother of pearl, glass

bone, silver, ivory, brass


I wondered

what they had held together

like memories and imaginings

now fastening me securely---

past relinquished---- future forming,

buttoned up in my center,

safely sealed together  

in my soul.

—Judy Myers

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