Babushka

I Am the children's grandma,

riding the ageless broom of the wind,

belly full of blessings,

flying a silhouette,

across the moon's flat screen.

My bag of tricks holds freedom, hope.

Don't fear My gifts!

Rabbits spring

from My pointed starry hat,

My magic hat of disappearance,

mysterious reappearance.

My dead straw broom sweeps clean,

reseeding life.

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Memory holds the past alive.

Then share it!

Song and story

give the children wisdom,

hope to carry on.

My power blesses you with change,

kaleidoscope of the possible.

In Harmony, things rearrange.

Your part is thanks for living room,

courage to love.

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Words contain story,

contain glory.

Child,

climb in my lap.

I climb the tree

of poetry

to see

the path of what may be.

And more,

I play at wizardry

(Abracadabra,

Sesame)

opening

an inner door.

Come in, my dear,

to Mystery.

Let us begin.

© Tamara Rasmussen 2018