Friday, June 2, 2017

Bequest (a poem) by Patricia Crandall

I bequeath to you
my cottage on Pine Lake.
Being city bred
you never came
to spend a day with me
among my rustic treasures.
I always sought you out
surrounded by electric life.
As grown-up you did come
to collect your inheritance;
came alone and sat
upon a sagging dock
watching children tumble
upon black tubes,
splashing, laughing.
A swimmer's white arms
flashed out of blue waters
pulling toward shoreline.
Sailboats were sailing
rowboats drifting
waves gently wafting
shore-birds fluttering
blueberry bushes drooping
ripe for plucking.
Gray squirrels scattered nuts
from tree limb to tree limb
and you thought only they
heard what you murmured:
"I know now who you were
and who I am going to be."

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