Thinking about lakes and fly fishing somedays
Remembering snow-capped mountains
Her Colorado land-escapes.
Thinking about baseball caps
And work worn hands of my grandfather
Who saw much and said little
In a memory scrubbed haze
Thinking about freshly cut tree globes
That gargoyled the other kin’s back
on California Sundays
A hastily packed suitcase full of decades
The salt and sugar granules that run fast through the creases in my fingers
To trail on the ground for my feet to walk away from
Crunch-crunching over yesterday
I chose to put eternal picture frames around the glass dishes
That hold the peanuts and chocolates of slow-moving holidays


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