Rivers run slick with it.
Cut fields hewn from it.
Bared skin, too, holds a shine of sun.
Into this time slot, to her own unhurried schedule, Grandchild 5 makes an appearance.
Pink-gold, cute as a vintage tea cup.
She slumbers under day’s fine light, wakes in the dark.
Grandchild 3 ponders sisterhood. She observes that babies make parents tired. Could they could be responsible for rain that cancels a trip to the park? Still, she deigns to kiss the infant on her forehead, an experiment in early love.
‘Granma,’ she whispers, ‘look - I’ve got jewellery.’
She shows each amulet on her new anklet. How the star shape has a sparkle in the centre of it. Her very own sparkle. Granma agrees it is beautiful. The gleam of it. How it is crafted. 


  1. Congratulations to all involved, grandchild #5, and in compassion and assurance a new anklet charm. It is not always that simple --you know of course. Your post comes at a good time, needed. Thank you for writing it out so beautifully. Should I drive us 100 miles west tomorrow with aches? Yes, a quarrel leaves me up late and I must make amends. Grandchildren --must wake with enthusiasm and say, "Let's go!" Not always easy being us, is it?

    1. It's not easy - it takes craft, graft, plenty of miles, often with aches and the fuel light blinking... xx

  2. It is indeed a dance of life, a coruscation. And I love the way babies' heads smell. Walking babies back and forth, singing "Ol' Man River" until they stop crying and fall asleep has always been one of my greatest pleasures, and probably --because I'm right-handed-- the reason my left ear failed first. Parents and grandparents understand. Daughter, who costumes shows in Chicago, recently wrote regarding a presentation of "Showboat" and remarked, "When the excellent vocalist launched into 'Ol' Man River', I felt unaccountably sleepy."


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