Springtime With Gramps

The death of winter carries varied sights. In April, when dandelions roar, “It’s Spring!” green yards transform by magic overnight. Gramps had sprayed his lawn, but in ours weeds bring an old game for kids as they dance and swing. Small windmills in disguise, children spread seeds giving Grandpa a cause for some dismay. He is no grouch, fence conversation leads to friendly talk of butterflies at play - riddles about what nature does in May. The kids amazed, watch squirrels building nests, questions evolve about the birds and bees. Gramps calls them varmints - Mother's Nature’s pests. “Ask your folks”, he replies with cough and wheeze. In naptime dreams, he aims a gun at trees. Gramps takes a walk, golf umbrella hovers for spring rains do not announce their coming. A neighbor lady hobbles to cover. Listen, his cane on her sidewalk - drumming, sweet songs of spring love, two voices humming. written May 7, 2014, edited on May 25, 2014