Grandma didn’t think chillun ought to see funerals, so de first one I ever seed, wuz when ma died two years atter de War wuz done over. A jackleg colored preacher talked, but he didn’t have sense ’nuff to preach a sho’ ’nuff sermon.

to pluck at somebody's sleeve

Wind oozing thin through the thorn from norward.

From atop the banks I could see over most of the buildings along Main Street, gossamered with dark smoke.