Grandfather

Image via Wikipedia

Grandfather

He strides like a giant,
Ascends earth’s round cheek.
The child at his side runs to keep up,
scuffs the toe of pink sneakers.

Sweeping up the bundle,
he heaves her on sturdy shoulders,
like God would.
Canyons yawn before them.

Fields of wildflowers,
splattered with color,
sway at their passage,
bow in homage.

When they reach the apex,
grandfather lowers the girl
who gathers buds and
puts them in a Mason jar

half-filled with water.
She clasps tiny hands around
the grooved rim,
walks back down on her own.

A warped screen-door slams behind them.
The cool dark room envelopes the pair as
she slips the gift into her mother’s
chapped hands.