My grandfather and I,

We walk and talk

And watch the ants climb

The dry weed stalk.

Sometimes we stop and

Hunt four-leaf clovers

While Grandfather tells

Stories over and over.

Grandfather has hands

That are big and warm.

They soothe away hurts

And hold away harm.

My grandfather’s hands

Can build a sand castle,

Roll up a fat snowman,

Or make willow whistles.

Grandfather has time—

I guess that’s the reason

He’s a special person

Whatever the season!