Grow

Can you be quiet

Can you watch the blades of grass 

through the squinting winter sunlight 

out of the periphery of your mind 

as they teeter in an easy breeze

All the while knowing 

Their only thing is to grow

Hi moon

Hi moon

Is it the change of the seasons

Or that my heart feels too unstable to move forward

Too shifty. Shifting. Unabashedly crying out that it would be different

That you would be

And that we can change

Like the moon,

All the time.

But constant too. 

Mawmaw

Walking through an antique mall is like spending time with my grandmother again. 

Smells that I attributed to her, warmth and dust and perfume. Old wood and dried book pages. 

Fake flowers and crystal stemware.

Walking from booth to booth, the air stifled and earthy,

I want to reach out and hold her hand. 

I can hear her laugh. I can see her face. 

I can turn and say hey Mawmaw,

What’s this really worth?

And with a turn of her heels and a twist of her head, she would respond,

I don’t know girl, let’s see what we can make them do.