Grandchildren 
Grandchildren 
You come, a bright tossed bag of gifts.
You are strawberry tinted and willowy,
You are jumping, jerking, whirling, spouting,
with flat stretched out hands.
You drop like pearls,
children from children,
diamonds from gold,
precious treasure from gathered wealth.
You are passive and quiet and bright and righteous,  
son of your father, child of your mother.
You are darkened and winsome,
dancing on dreams of differences. 
You are tiny and your voice sings like a bird.
You are moving beyond my carefulness
to kingdoms I will not see,
planting stones to glimmer in the light
to the borders of Paradise.
You are running, playing,
all in order - the beauty of quietness,
the psalms of peace, a peasant girl with trains.
You are active and busy with moving, arranging,
rearranging and changing the world; you cry, forging your way.
You reach with wonder into the past,
a knight in a castle,
with cowboy boots to steady the armor.
You are silent, a smile, of memory, you fade into my lost world.
He will bring you home again erasing our tears.
We are waiting
and here with arms outstretched. 
You are gifts, children of children, 
diamonds from gold,
precious treasure from gathered wealth
and I am here
with arms
out stretched.
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