Grandma Josie ii

At sunset, we walked, the two of us.
With cane in hand, she'd point to a stone,
I'd dust it and drop it in my bag.

Once, she swore she'd seen a hissing snake
at the mouth of a cave. So scared,
swore she'd run all the way down the hill.
.
It was hard to fathom her running.
I'd seen her mainly in slow motion,
at sink or stove stirring mushroom
barley soup or kasha with noodles.

For a tiny moment, I could
almost imagine her running,
in the next breath, it was
unimaginable again.

My heart ached, how I never
wanted anything to happen to her,
not from a hissing snake,
not God-forbid from anything.

That day, I spilled shiny pebbles,
smooth stones and craggy stones
upon the wooden floor.

With cane in hand,
she'd pointed to each stone,
just for me and for me alone.