it’s on days like this
heat rising off the asphalt
I pick up a couple of chocolates from the gas station
I’m reminded of hot June afternoons
in my grandads yard
how much sweeter chocolate tasted
melted on my small fingers,
I am reminded of my grandads weathered hands
Plucking blueberries, gently he placed them in my palms
In his backyard he told me about the birds that sang above us
the busy ants I cried about for biting my bare feet in the dirt
His stormy eyes held stories about far away places, five cent bottles of coke, Georgia sunsets,
it’s on days like today I remember how he held my hand in his and showed me the crops
Said that we ought to thank God for the rain
And at the dinner table I can still hear his prayer
wanting to be everything he was
And as the years went on
even when the hands he placed blueberries in outgrew his own
even when his tired body couldn’t sow any more crops
melted chocolate around my mouth
sweet summer days in my grandaddy’s yard