The familiar familial shuffling of cards,

Organized chaos manipulated by his wise hands.

A soft competitiveness flies off the cards.

I imagine myself to be a worthy competitor,

Remembering the last hand we played, 

I won 7-4.

Forgetting the years,

Of whispers carrying strategies,

During rounds labelled “just for fun.”

He taught me when to play the aces,

An admiration for the ten of diamonds,

The evasiveness of spades.

Pine, must, spaghetti sauce

Sneak their way into my nostrils,

Scents of the hand-built cabin, 

As I gaze out the framed glass wall.

The sky -

Threatening a dramatic show,

Of lightning on the backdrop of a giant mirror of water.

At the cabin, the sky demands attention

Unlike Grandpa,

Humbly surrounded by legacy.

His peaceful presence almost blends

Perfectly with the serene background.

Until you hear his chuckle,

And a younger, fiery man,

Appears as the twinkle in his eye.

I remember the years,

Of gently spoken knowledge.

Stolen conversations during accidental quiet.

Analysis of short stories,

Admonitions of political events,

The pervasiveness of love.