Last night your grandmother
made a slow descent
down into the ravine
through falling leaves
behind the inn
at Spring Mill Park
Her knees protested
but she insisted
her eyes moist in dusk
fierce in focus
She told me it was there
in that ravine
when you were so sick
she used to take you in her
heart
and hold you close
as she sat on a big rock
and watched
the yellow leaves
of autumn
fall
JRMcF
Written 10-1-8
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