Wet behind the ears, gentle
as a lamb – innocence wrapped
in silver paper, tied with
remembering string knotted
on ancient knuckles. He may
not know their names any more
(Time has seen to that), but he
could tell them just when to cut
the wheat, where to find the best
Saskatoon bushes – bent like
beasts of burden beneath their
berry up-dos – how to get
the last drop of sweet milk from
that skittish cow. His silver
mane beads with the effort at
recollection; memory,
ephemeral wisp, drips off
like sweat on yesterday’s dust.
****************************
This is a leaf from a ‘Lamb’s Ear’ plant…
Meanwhile, Melody Muses... 
I love the Lamb’s Ear plant. It didn’t like me though; shrivelled up and died which is disturbing because they are supposed to be very hardy and almost indestructible..
Wow. Maybe it wasn’t you – maybe it came with some pests or already had issues before you set it in place…
Maybe 🙂
Melody…exceptional.
Thanks Rob! 🙂
Very nice. I should just camp here at your place for the day–might cure the Crankies!!
Drat those Crankies. Always coming by unannounced, bringing all their annoying relatives. Sheesh and 3/8ths…
Oh yes! I should be embarrassed for pitching such a fit all day, but I’m totally into the Grace thing–I’m not saying I’m proud to have acted like a 2 year old, but I’m not compounding it by throwing myself under a large truck.
Atta girl! (We need to celebrate those “I didn’t throw myself under a truck” moments! 🙂
Melody there’s always beauty in your congruence of conceptual metaphors — this one had me ascertaining my own soul… A need to be squeezed for fulfillment.
Thanks Debbie. It is a gift to be able to see life in mere words – you definitely have that!