GRANDMA AND JENNY
We stroll to the park, popping snowberries
Between our fingers as I did as a child
Along the shady driveway of my best friend’s house.
We’re pleased to find ripe Concord grapes
Hiding under the leaves that vine the walls
She loves to walk upon. In the canvas swing,
Her small bottom fits my hand like a Japanese
Teacup as I lift and send her soaring.
She is old enough to pump herself, once
She gets going. We rescue a daring toddler
Who has crawled up the slide as a kitten
Climbs a trellis, unable to back down.
Faster than she expects, Jenny rides the slick
Steel to a sandy landing. She tries it again.
We follow pigeons to the soda stand and
Pigeons lead us to the beach, speckled at low tide
With perambulating periwinkles. They
Singlefoot among the Irish moss and sea
Lettuce. Clusters of mussels congregate
Like Portuguese families. Seven geese
Drift by in convoy, nattering about the
Scarcity of minnows. Jenny splashes ashore
To dump her bucket onto a sand patty.
The day is opalescent and fragile as fine
Crystal, or the beauties she blows
And catches on her soapbubble ring.
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