They left today —the grands

She nine, he six I begin to pick up things scattered here and there, their remnants Like picking up shells on the beach vacated by their inhabitants.

I think of the children’s faces How much joy they radiate. In my heart I hold a space and promise not to wipe clean Their window kisses left in my dining room Where they leaned into the glass panes to watch birds fly by —osprey, eagles, heron— And smudge their sweet lips and small hands onto the glass Gifting me with their language of love Now on the hallowed windows.

~Pat Kowal