She left behind a business-
remains of a mind ahead
of its time, and she had
the most delicate crystal
you could ever find.

The only girl in her family-
her father, part Indian and
dark haired gunslinger in the
non-civil War;
she turned out blond,
her mother's McRobert's stem,
and she fancied running her
own business, no man
good enough to sleep
on her side of the door.

Creature of the future-
a woman who ran
her own store and liked
fine things, silver and crystal
and clean white, cotton sheets
alone at night.

She died young, unmarried,
and left behind stemware
delicately marked, virginal,
almost untouched; a single tap
rings like bells at St. Peter's
at the death of popes.

Great aunt Ginny, generations ahead
of her time, still lives when a glorious
glint of sunset slips unnoticed into my
cabinet, and her crystal suddenly
shines and shines.