Reminisce

"This morning I put

brown sugar on

my oatmeal

not because I needed

it to be sweet

but one bite and suddenly

I am eight years old

sitting in a chair

six years too big for me,

my feet do not

touch the ground

but they swing

in eager merriment

and my grandmother’s

laughing eyes

sparkle at me

across our spoons

in the delight of a

shared secret.

It is summer

and our fingers

are bruised wine-sweet

from picking blackberries

and in the background

my mother sighs

at my disheveled hair

and sweat-stained cheeks

but her mouth is smiling

and my grandmother winks

and my laughter

startles into existence

between my bites

loud enough

to fluster the birds outside

and in the flurry

and beauty of the flight

the world is soft

and gentle

and bright."