If you forget yourself, you become the universe.  ~Hakuin

Crabbing with My Grandmother (in the marshes of Glynn)

With rattling traps, chicken necks, and string
We descend the ramp to the floating dock
Aground now, on the bank of heavy, black mud.
Scrambling fiddlers brandish white claws.
A crane rises from the bend.
Something splashes at the edge of low tide.

Only the sun can find us,
So my grandmother ties a straw hat
Under her wrinkled chin
And I wear a skimpy bathing suit
And curse the oyster bed
For cutting my feet when I swim.

My grandmother laughs and forgets herself.


2 Responses to Merging

  1. Pat Paulk says:

    Lyn, this is fantastic. Of course I do have some of the same memories. We used to go off the “jakyll” causeway. I can hear that mud sucking at my young legs still. Glad to see you blogging.

  2. Teresa says:

    Beautiful, just beautiful. I love this poem so much. Thank you.

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