to Grandma

There are few words here, so they should be rich and deep

like chocolate for matzoh candied cookies.

Let us say:

The sun rises for me at 8:55 pm between the sleeping driveway and the shadowed birds of paradise

when I leave your warm car and cross to the gate and know that you are there

all the sweet understated things you are, like honey cake to crown late summer quietly

I won’t list the ingredients, just jot down the aroma of safety that spices a bright room before a night of music.

~ to my Grandmother


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