remembrance

The Gift


I remember the little white package.

It was a rippled red ribbon so neatly tied.

Crossbow over the square gift.

Placed just under the 3 ft. Christmas Tree.img_2329

Set on a table with white cotton tree skirt.

“It’s not much,” she would say.

“Oh, Grandma, anything you give is always too

much.”

We would smile as her trembling hands reached for the gift.

“Thank you Grandma,” as we opened the gift gingerly.

There in the little gift was a pair of sheer stockings.

“Grandma, how did you know, this is just what I needed.”

She would smile delightfully with light behind her blue eyes.

You see, the gift of love was one she could not wrap in paper.

The caring hands were never measured by a moment.

Her memory is not in just one generation, but many.

Her gift, I treasure, it was the gift of love left lingering.

Copyrighted: December 2016  CMM

Summer Smiles



Deeper and deeper I break blacken crumbles of packed soil.

Closer and closer the earth warms wiggle in welcome,

bringing a hallow depth of wet disrupted places.

Spring’s garden now silent from the sun,

now further into the soil given way.

There are welcomes new beginnings

from the yellow petals

the sprouting

smiles

the

Daisy.

Copyrighted: 2009 CMM/ photo 2000 CMM