She added extra sugar to the Jiffy muffin mix

She mixed it all together
Stuck a finger in, and brought it to her lips
“Needs a little more sugar,” 
She said with a smile
Sprinkled sugar on top of each cake
A sparkly little pile
I can still hear the metal rocking chairs
Moving to and fro
Can hear the birds chirping 
Feel the warm country breeze blow
I can hear her stories, I can see the trees
I remember feeling loved as she listened to me 
Together, we collected eggs from chickens
I slid down her cellar door
She taught me how to cook
And the value of completing a chore
I helped her draw water from her well
She taught me about Heaven
And instilled the fear of Hell 
Her eyes had grown weak
But a Bible she still read
Jumbo print, with lined pages 
Margins full
And Jesus’s words in red
She’d retrieve goodies from the “icebox”
Refreshed us with “Adam’s Ale”
Taught us card games
And told us many tales
I loved helping with baby chicks
Despised the early rooster’s crow
Winessed her saving scraps 
Reusing everything 
And watched her sew
Caring gentle touch
Cancer changed her quickly –
I began to take care of the woman 
Who had cared for me so much
I put on a brave face
But cried while she slept
“God, if you take her, let me not forget” –
She rarely left her house
She never traveled far
She was even short in stature
But her legacy looms large
Now, I have a daughter who shares her date of birth
Exactly 100 years between
And the full effect of Granny’s legacy 
Is still yet to be seen
“Needs a little more sugar,”
She’d say with southern graces 
Like leaven, salt, or light
Her life sprinkled the right stuff
In all the right places