the zen of grandmothers
by m lewis redford
here is a triplet of early poems
evoking a different season in a different time by a younger mlr
of my eternal grandmother
who died in 1989 but remains
one of the strong threads that
completes me through time
‘my grandmother’s …’ the zen of grandmothers
morning a pastel sketch with word-highlighting
morning / through the / open door my grandmother lived through open doors and allowed the puffs of air in that we might breathe
openness wormhole: travelling is fresh
Nan wormhole: ‘standing astride …’
What an intriguing way to showcase such lovely poems, a kind of verbal geo-caching. Nicely done!
… like giving co-wordinates?