Lifting them like treasures I read their fading words as love escapes from the folds. Then, surprisingly, my fingers find three forgotten seeds hiding in the seams. I know you, Grandma, close my eyes, still smell white roses blooming by your door, see freckled tiger-lilies, orange nests in needle leaves, see delphiniums in blended shades of blue, your famous butter daffodils, shining row on row. Like you, my pocket linings harbor seeds. I see tall, slender oak trees unlike wide oaks I know.
Cold branches clasp a few forgotten leaves.
One acorn hiding under winter sheddings drops into my pocket. Somehow, with all forgettings, I too feel gathered in. About the Authors G. Richard Beckham was born in West Texas, but grew up in Washington state. He worked for the Federal Aviation Administration for 24 years. In 1980, he and his wife, Dolly Ellen, moved to Ivins, Utah.