A memory leaps into my mind this morning from somewhere in the hazy past. I see my daughter–a year old–full of beans, her dress twirling in constant motion. Her eyes are a soft shade of chicory-blue, wispy hair spun silk in the sunlight. There are still two great-grandmas here at this gathering, two grandmas and two grandpas, my husband and me. One of the grandfathers is turning the crank on an old ice cream maker, a grandma is slicing peaches, juice from them flowing freely down her flowered apron. Soon there will be luscious, peach ice cream, served with still-warm ginger cookies. Down the hill, and under a bridge, the Stillwater River meanders lazily onward, past the sleepy village. Sky is that tender celestial blue. Wish I had known then how close to heaven all of us were.

small green slipper
forgotten in the grass
the sole barely worn

Sharon Auberle was honored to serve as Door County Poet Laureate for 2017-2019. Her work has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies, along with artwork and a photo now and then. She is inspired daily by the beauty of Door and also by her ruling dachshund, Dash.