Written to my mother's grandson, Donald Burnett, when he was elementary-age.
"You were living in Oroville when I sent this bit of "whimsy" I had composed on our "day off."
We had visited the old mission at La Purisuma. Later, while walking down a dusty road that beckoned us, the following lines popped into my head.
Wind in my hair;
Sun in my face;
Feet in the dust;
Mind out in space:
Strolling along
down an old dusty lane--
Piecing together my memories again.
I must have shared it with Carol (her daughter) in my next letter and later learned you had taken it to school! To you it was the most wonderful poem in the world, just because your grandmother had written it. Oh, what small boys can do to a grandmother's ego.
© 2012 by Marilyn J. Woody
