(preface another ode to my childhood Lake Michigan beach walks with grampa. I write a lot about him and grama Kinney. I miss them a lot. Side note: the word uffy in stanza 3 means softy. As in "pink uffy" Emma's blanket)
misty moisty Michigan days
are the best ones for walking
with grampa and the dogs
to the beach in the woods
sunny days are nice too
but grey rainy are even better
soft days my dad called them
its a good word
drizzly clouds make things look
fuzzy and comfy and cozy
i want to wrap up in clouds
like an uffy blanket
its quiet so you can hear
bugs and birds and rustley leaves
and furry, fluffy wind
makes sklishy waves and creaky trees
you can talk if you want
but you don't have to
on a moisty misty walk
and probably shouldn't
the big lake woods
are like a church
and we don't talk in church
if grama is there anyway
on soft beach days
nothing bad exists
no school or work or mean
just happy with a little sad
but it's good blue sad
not mad red sad
sad that helps not hurts, or not too much
sad that time and people pass
grampa and grama are not here
but they're not gone
they still live in the red brick house
and we still walk the lake
in my heart.
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