I visited you once
in summer’s press
all fabric stuck or sticking
my humid mind fog or forgettin’

a puzzle of squirrels
and a hidden nut
you’d said was but lost
the trees spoke in the wind

was only one place where
green life did not go
near the ponds edge
and the catwillows

the ground giving up
away into the water
the mud all stuck and sticking
my feet and hands

lost, in chasing what the wind had said
too far gone, really
until soggy became smooth
and up to the sky i bore it

the watch you wore
before
before
before She bore
you back home
so deep

Paige Stewart

I was reminded of my grandma today. My cat dug her watch out of my jewelry drawer. Brought it up and out to play with but a memory buried too and this poem is what came through. For Bettye June.