dawn sings

sunrise glows muted

through light fog

its brilliant awakening of day

hushed but still singing of the glory

of our gifted world

grandpa Bob and the printer

Grandpa Bob and the printer

Writers in the Grove hosting children

awaiting a coloring book story of a hero

having their own name

excited, thrilled that the book was to be

of themselves

but the printer balked and only spat out

pages one by one when it would

we had the children color extra pages

but the wait weighed longer and longer

poor Bob ‘Grandpa’ Kratz had worked

many hard weeks to set up the event

how he hated to disappoint those kids

loss before listen

quiet one’s smile

lost in the self-assurance

that he knows how things ought to be

point taken, he believes, as he listens

but his pre-judgement means

he never he never heard

what she tried to tell him

dash

wee carnations, baby’s breath delicate

in slender, white container set

on the flat stone with loved names

and lifetimes of struggle, dreams

pain and laughter given no more

than a dash between numbers

soft flowers in memory

of their gift of life

but proving too insubstantial

as the wind nudges it over

the water spills across letters

etched in stone

Include more text here to close out the blog, or just delete this box.

one payment, two rewards

 aching to help my independent offspring

whose pride of self and generous spirit

i would not hurt for any gain

and now i can assist by spending

what i would have at any rate

but applying it to a cost she could not pay