Birdfoot's Grampa

It's late and we just drove home after spending the evening with a dear friend over a wonderful dinner and watching the newest version of Alice in Wonderland, which was pretty good, actually.

The air is saturated, very humid, and it rained while were in Wonderland so the drive home was in and out of foggy patches. And they made me think of my favorite Joseph Bruchac poem. This is from his book, Near the Mountains.

Birdfoot's Grampa by Joseph Bruchac

The old man

must have stopped our car

two dozen times to climb out

and gather into his hands

the small toads blinded

by our lights and leaping,

live drops of rain.

The rain was falling,

a mist about his white hair

and I kept saying

you can't save them all

accept it, get back in

we've got places to go.

But, leathery hands full

of wet brown life

knee deep in the summer

roadside grass,

he just smiled and said

they have places to go

too