Hello, poetry friends! I hope you are managing to stay cool during this oppressive heat wave. It’s the first Friday of the month, so it’s time for another Inkling challenge. This month, it was my turn to provide the prompt for our merry band of poets. Several months ago, Heidi shared a month of prompts from poet Audrey Gidman. I remembered these prompts as intriguing and thought-provoking, so I read through her June prompts and chose this for our challenge:
Read “Digging” by Seamus Heaney. Think about something that has been handed down to you—from a parent, a grandparent, an elder in your life—that feels alive in you now. Think of how it is the same and think of how it has transformed in you. Notice how, for Heaney, it’s gardening and writing—two kinds of digging, but still the digging continues through the generations. Write a poem that digs into what was handed down to you and examines what you carry now.
Choosing an object that has been handed down to me was more of a challenge than I thought it would be. I ultimately chose my Nana’s flour sifter. I’m not sure my poem meets the exact criteria of the prompt, but I think it matches the spirit.
Sifting
Between my fingers, cool and smooth,
my pen strives to find some truth.
Something as true as you,
unleashing a flurry of flour
as you turn the crank
of your sifter.
The wooden knob, worn smooth
from years of use, is cool beneath
your fingers.
I see you:
purifying and lightening
with this sifter for decades,
the cakes and cookies you baked,
your never-idle fingers performing
miracles in a kitchen the size
of a closet.
I sift through your recipes,
like an archeologist,
searching for those I remember
best:
spice cake
spritz cookies
crust for apple pie.
Nothing I bake tastes
as good as what you
conjured in that kitchen.
Why, I wonder?
I pick up my pen,
sifting through memories,
seeking answers.
Draft, © Catherine Flynn, 2026
Please be sure to visit my fellow Inklings to read their responses to this challenge.
Heidi Mordhorst @ myjuicylittleuniverse
Linda Mitchell @ anotherwordedgewise
Margaret Simon @reflectionsontheteche
Mary Lee Hahn @ anotheryearofreading
Molly @ nixthecomfortzone
Then be sure to stop by Michelle Kogan’s lovely, art & poetry filled blog for the Poetry Friday Round Up.
Reading to the Core 
This is a sweet, wonderful poem. Baking with family has a special kind of magic. In my family, there is a crumb cake any child can make since it does not require a mixer. I tried making it with my 4-year-old grandson earlier this year with incredibly messy results. In the chaos, we left out the baking powder, so the cake was a complete disaster. On my next visit, though, I will forge ahead and try again. I love the idea of baking with him, calamitous reality notwithstanding. Your poem brought this whole episode to mind!
Alice
LikeLiked by 2 people
What a fabulous memory of your grandmother. I love these lines: “something as true as you/ I sift through your recipes,/like an archeologist,” Isn’t it amazing what memories can be created with food? I imagine you are creating incredible memories with your grands, too. How lucky for all of you. Your poem helps me remember my grandmother who loved us with her recipes…they were so precise and so good. I wish I could be the same. Oh, what a good post this is!
LikeLiked by 1 person
This poem is full of such great sensory images. I can see and feel the sifter and feel the emotion of longing to bake as well as Nana.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love all the OOOH sounds — the sound I made as I read this! Recipes are an intergenerational form of magic, and when you add in the exact tools…ooh! I love that you employ dual magic — sifting memories and using your pen to capture them.
LikeLike
What a treasure to possess, Catherine!
I love this stanza:
Something as true as you,
unleashing a flurry of flour
as you turn the crank
of your sifter.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ooh, great word choice in “sifting!” Love all the ways you sift in this poem. xo
LikeLiked by 1 person
A lovely tribute, Catherine. When you sifted memories, love and admiration came through.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I have my mother’s sifter, Catherine. Wow, the memories you’ve brought, & that question of nothing tasting the same. It has to be the love you two shared, the happy times, and tastes! Love this a lot!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love the sifting of the flour and the sifting through recipes. Those sifters were the BEST. I think my mom has my grandmother’s still. My great aunt showed us how to make her biscuits and gave us her “recipe” (in her head) and we still could never replicate it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A beautiful poem, so personal and loving. Thank you for including the photo of the sifter. I always like to think there is an invisible thread that connects us to our loved one when we hold the things they held 🙂 Happy Fourth!
LikeLike
Cathy, your challenge has sure resulted in lots of poetry magic this week from you amazing Inklings! I smiled my way through your delightful poem – I KNOW this exact kind of flour sifter from my own growing up years. I’ll have to ask my mother if she got it from her mother. I used to love the sound and feel of the metal blade making its circuit of scraping against the screen…. :0)
LikeLike
Nice play/use back and forth between the sifting, baking, and memories, and great pic of the old sifter too, thanks!
LikeLike
That photo! And the picture of your nana in “a kitchen the size of a closet,”
“unleashing a flurry of flour” –is so suggestive of her energy and determination. To end on sifting and seeking is also perfect. Beautifully done!
LikeLike
Catherine, your poem rings a bell with me. My Nonnie was a supreme baker and so I can easily relate to your memories from your Nana’s sifter and your pen.
Between my fingers, cool and smooth,
my pen strives to find some truth.
Something as true as you,
unleashing a flurry of flour
Both items unleash the sensation of being a creative person with an enormous amount of energy.
LikeLike
Catherine, What a great way to remember your nana – your use of the word sifting was very creative. Thanks for sharing this.
LikeLike