Anchor

Grandpa, 

You stand tall, firm 

Reaching down into your origins and bearing much fruit. 

Wind moves through you with fluidity, yet you do not move. 

You branch out with limbs strong and quiet. 

And when we're only small things 

And when our tears fall like leaves swept in the wind 

And when our branches hang low, 

You're there and there like you've always been. 

Reaching down into velvety soil to comfort us. 

Composting our woes, turning them into wisdom. 

And in all these things you are not just a father

And a grandfather

And a son;

You are an anchor.