In 1949
my mother found a quarter
a twenty-five cent piece
made from real silver
in those days
It glinted
in the dust-draped foliage
bordering the dirt road
where she trekked
weekly
to pick up mail
purchase groceries
and makings
for the hand-rolled cigarettes
she and Dad both smoked
in those days

She secured the precious coin
inside her coat pocket
separate from the money
for essentials
Nothing much left for extras
in those days
On the way home, with a shopping bag
in each hand
she paused
to pull out the packet
of what she’d purchased
with her windfall
Dad would have his
roll-your-owns
but my mother indulged
in a genuine tailor-made
cigarette!