Our Grandmother

Your body is gone,

But your soul remains,

In a thousand little places.

Your laughter echoes from the beaks of crows,

And your idle chatter from every blue jay.

Your skillful hands in raccoon paws

And your pension for mischief too.

Your artistry in every hydrangea,

Your mystery in the clearing beneath all pines.

Your generosity in every feather found,

And your strength in unwavering oaks.

Your hospitality in every cup of tea,

And your wild heart in cricket song

As the day slips into night.

Your body is gone,

But your soul remains,

In a thousand little places.