Vivid memories sing today,
vultures circling the empty present
five years old and surrounded by
cherished elder genealogical statesmen
swinging us around by our hands
driving up to grandma’s house
in campers topped with faded shell roofs,
bringing out strange trinkets to
entice our young fascination,
a yarn woven Arabian monkey smiles
a Good Sam grin as you shake its hand,
the old man replaces it in the camper’s cab
shootouts on Bonanza scream from the
television and punctuate the folk’s
conversation and laughter,
coffee cake stains moo-moos as
hair is let down and they carry you
to their knees to share stories for the
ages their kindly light guiding you
through the storm of early confusion
they’re all gone now, but the monkey sits
here, staring at you, a bit weathered but
still shining his lights.