A Treasure to Keep
Somewhere between mountains
palisading -
where rivers
serpentine safely to sea -
I stood once,
unafraid,
on a front porch
Three steps,
pillowed with snow,
down to the yard
-another 50 feet walk
in the whiteness
to the lean-too barn
At age two or three,
I was keen to help
Grandpa milk the cow
from his stool
Crouching down,
squatting,
I knew what to do
my small hands grabbed,
pulled down, and
squirted warm milk
from speckled udders-
bszhhhht,
bszhhhht
into a tin bucket
I learned about
loving life,
where summers tinkled with flower bells
Unaware of chasms
on the way,
storms that would ensue,
my eyes full of wonder,
eggs, chickens,
scent of hay
dreams yet to dream
"Too deep to walk in", said he.
I said, "B-b-b-but Grandpa...
you can carry me!"
Poetics at the pub today dversepoets.com
is about a special memento,
