I never read poetry as a child. I was busy reading comic books, watching cowboy movies on TV and running with my friends in the hills of West Virginia. But, as life often happens, I sat with my Mother one winters afternoon in our living room. The wind outside swirled and howled, but the two of us were cozy and unafraid by the fire, she in her old rocking chair, me sitting on the floor. As was the case more often than not, she was writing poetry and since the weather prevented me from going out to play with my friends, I asked her to read to me as she wrote. I was amazed at the rhythm, the drum-like beat as she read, but mostly, I was amazed at how the words she spoke touched me. One moment my heart was happy and joyous, the next, whimpering and breaking. What was this new thing I was experiencing, I remember thinking. How could words so beautifully spoken evoke such emotion? That day my Mother gave me a gift I shall never forget, the gift of words, words of Involution! Thank you Mama!