Life Arts

Cape Cod 1966

By       Message Gary Lindorff     Permalink
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We used to have picnics on a bayside beach.

My grandmother was too frail to walk on the sand,

So we used to carry her from the car

Which made her grumble,

Which was just grandma.

We never knew how much she hated being carried

Because we were so busy feeling manly,

My brother and I.

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And once we got her settled out of the breeze

She would say

"There, this is nice. . ." or something like that

And smile.

And when you are young you never question a smile.

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So that was our permission to run off

Leaving our half-eaten sandwiches

While she sat there under her hat

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poet, writer living in rural VT, transformational counselor (Jungian background, shamanic practices, wilderness vision quests guided and facilitated); private practice; poetry coach; poet for

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