Doctor Grandma

Yesterday, on the windshield of your car,

our car, the one we inherited from you,

a tiny grasshopper appeared,

light green baby, sitting there,

as I drove to the store.

This has become our sign,

a symbol of life between us.

I would see them in your yard,

after you passed,

not something we see every day anymore,

like I used to see them as a kid.

A sign of life, a symbol, and I like to think,

from you.

It is you saying, “Care for the earth,

all signs of life, everywhere.

Each life is precious, even grasshoppers,

care for all the living things.”

A friend of mine wrote a poem for you,

‘I see you galavanting through galaxies,

a grasshopper clinging … to your hand…

She dwells with the stars, tethered to God,

with an emerald green grasshopper

strapped by her side.’

I whisper to you in the car,

“I love you, I miss you.”

I see you too, green grasshopper,

all life is connected,

ours, with tiny living things,

and other worlds beyond.

cfblack, 10-20-25

This entry was posted on October 20, 2025 at 9:33 am and is filed under Family, gratitude, grief, love, spirit world. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.