I MET A GREAT LADY
Old Mrs. Gilbert coughed and the group eyed her admiringly as she crept slowly to stand beside me. Her fragile, bony arm slid round my waist and pulled me close. She smelled fragrant, like lilacs in bloom.
“My sisters of the Council of Negro Women, do you see what I see?” She paused to glance round at their curious faces. “Does Ivy not remind you of our famous leader, Mrs. Bethune? Not just that beautiful chocolate skin but also that nice melodious voice. A voice that makes poetry sound like song.”