Grandma’s House
The long driveway, barking banter, the arrival
Gumboots awaiting our growing feet in every size
Container’s, saved and waiting, ready for the journey to the
swamp
The long walk, which spot first?
The barren lands of the
fire-pit?
The cold-room, to shuffle aside preserved foods to find a
salamander.
The smell of musky earth and Grandpa’s old tools.
The barn, sawdust piled to the sky.
Flinging our hearts first.
The pond.
Unbroken waters.
Eyes gleaming, a croak,
A flicker of a water skeeters gliding gracefully, skillfully
across the expanse
Water beetles bobbing to the top, swift with the net
Hello sweet dragonfly larva, chomping at the bit to devour
another tadpole
Frog jellies, wiggling beans, laugher and giggles
A garter snake, a prized catch, we holler to the gods at
this conquest
Grandma addled the eggs, mother goose is away
The bell chimes, our voices are named, summoned from another
land.
Time for dinner.
That old smelly bar of soap, rinsing swap smell off small
curious hands.
Beets, pickled beets, Grandmas pickled beets.
Fresh rolls, the fork hits the plate
The crickets play
their nightly serenade
The clock ticks, the bumble-berry crumble served hot, the ice-cream
melts quickly
Hungry eyes devour the sight while waiting for the last to
be served. Begin.
She makes tea, earl grey
The murmur of adults at the table.
Just enough light to take one more journey outside
The cats start arriving, not intending to be the dessert of coyotes
The Earth here holds childhood
Sinking into the mud
Settling into the soft breeze
Nestled into the trees.
Katie Vaino
