The world roils and boils.
War, unrest, protests.
Political hypocrisy.
While we find solace in Water Mill.
With four grandchildren.
Three sisters and a cousin.
Bouncing on mats.
Squatting, flipping.
Hiking trails to a beach, a pond.
Listening to sounds of bayside waves.
Rippling onto the shore.
Ducks paddling in water, flapping wings.
To their own voices, animated, spirited.
Inventing game after game.
In a house where screens, restricted.
Pushing them to play.
Like I did as a child.
To invent, create, hear each other speak.
Honor ideas, words.
Eagles, blackbirds, swans.
Dandelions, daisies.
Familial bonds.
Lynn Benjamin
April 30, 2024
