I used to come, a  loving – though transient – visitor

but now this place holds my pillow

and my dog’s bed

and the flowering seeds of my child

come to visit me instead

One day in autumn

when the leaves let go of branching flesh

where orange and gold burst forth

and verdant meadows

cushioned their fall

and rain chased them into rivers

my grandson watched

as a thousand boats of gold

swirled and twirled upon streaming creek

and disappeared under the stone arches

of a packhorse bridge

“Bye leaf! Bye, bye!”

he shouted

his cotten-clad arm waving like a puppy’s tail

The joy of being Grannie

washed over me

and I realized in waves of relief

that I don’t have to say goodbye



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Filed under biographical, Poetry, Travel

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