The Vibrant Channeled Creator

Starting right here I want to remember:

The way my Grandma’s upper arms

flapped and jiggled

while she knitted our PJ’s,

pruned the peonies,

baked sugared crullers and

climbed the stairs to her 3rd floor apartment

(so we six could occupy floors 1 and 2).

She smelled of lavender,

Her cheeks flushed pink

atop her cool wide dresses.

There was no chagrin

‘Bout being thin;

She was soft with nurturing

and listening.

A fertile figure-emulated

’til my golden years –

And jiggling arms

Arrived.