my grandparents' garden

my grandparents have always had a garden, ever since i can remember.

some of my fondest summertime memories as a kid

is walking through the rows of dirt, 

being careful not to step on vines or tender shoots,

inspecting bugs and pulling weeds.

we would end the day sitting on their front porch swing, 

sipping sweet tea, and shelling beans.

that metallic plink plink sound of the beans

falling into the bowl is a song my heart knows well.

a generation later, and it's my own kids

who are spending time in their great-grandparents' garden,

learning how to pull prickly squashes off the vines, and ears of corn from the stalks. 

i watch, i blink away the tears, and i whisper up a prayer of thanks.