Folds folded within folds,
Mitty blouses soaked in Vano topped off with a stiff Niagara spray,
Folds fold on uniform shoulders atop an unfolded board,

Mom rarely folded in on her many house duties
She’d lightly fold in egg whites creating a delicious angel food cake
folded in strawberries and jimmies to add color and fun

She & Dad looked forward to Saturday nights folding at Kay’s Laundromat
Hot sheets pulled from a quarter fed dryer folded precisely in a heat on fly

Sometimes Mom would fold into laughter, sew a stitch on her side
as she cut up filling the room full of laughter
On rare occasions we’d go to church as a family
My sister & I folding our fingers: “Here is the church, here is the steeple . . .”

And strange it would be to see Mom’s hands folded, not crazy busy
A fun memory EZ to see, is Daddy’s huge hands folded at my chest
as he swung me through his knees,

A forlorn gambler comes to mind when Dad would fold in disgust,
his Bay Meadows Program folded neatly into his back pocket as he threw his tickets to the ground
I’d follow closely behind, pick up each ticket as I whispered a winning wish to turn them into
a win, place or show!  

Another sad gambling fold was walking into Welte’s, the smoke-filled card room
Dad’s head hung low, tired, his fingers desperately sweeping the green felt circular table silently motioning the dealer for a winning hit
When he folded in Lo-Ball, a heavy grey cloud of disgust folded over him
not even my hugging arms or a pink box filled with donuts could fix,

Despite the coils, buckles, snags and blends,
folds show no beginnings, middles or ends
these the folds of Family ~
As clan we fold into each other
weaving intricate stories told & retold
as new folds fold in old folds fold out 
folds . . . enfolding . . . folds . . .