Gravel

The driveway’s made of gravel, Preventing slips and skids, But really, more important, It’s a magnet for the kids. They pluck the rocks and toss them, The pebbles raining down, Then line them up, creating Highways in a mini-town. They scoop them up and let them Slowly trickle through their hands And watching them, I realize What each Nana understands – The simplest items can provide Imagination’s seeds. Some freedom under loving eyes Is what a grandchild needs.

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Maurice Rigoler

Date: 8/26/2018 7:31:00 PM

Wise words in the final stanza, Ilene. As a boy rural roads were all gravel and walking on them barefoot did a job on our tender soles. I didn't do much with gravel stones except throw stones at a rabbit or sometimes the old man who trudged the highway now and then. I wrote a long poem about him. / M

Jan Allison

Date: 8/26/2018 5:46:00 PM

what a charming rhyme Ilene and isn't it wonderful they are playing outdoors and having fun and not stuck indoors on computers:-) hugs Jan xx

Pat Adams

Date: 8/26/2018 5:33:00 PM

This is very true, and as always very well rhymed and written. When I was a kid in Wichita, we had lots of grass but of course played in the dirt! Made roads to imagined cities etc. Seems like not so much room for imagination with the new games and what not!