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For My Granddaughter
by Catherine Chandler
Moriah holds my hand in early June.
the lilies we admire will wither, still,
be happy in our fugitive vignette.
me-nots we’ll pick, blue thistle, fern rosette,
hawkweed, trillium, wild columbine:
an afternoon perennially mine,
though soon she will forget.
2001- 2012, Quill & Parchment
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