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!