Dave Chandler
Fresh Water Ocean
At our family beach outing our two-year-old grandson kept staring out at the ocean, a moderate surf breaking on the sand. He stepped off toward the waves and would have walked right in. His parents, indulging the old folks, let Mary and me be the ones to gently restrain him, each of us holding a hand. We waded in just far enough to let incoming waves lift him up and ebbs set him giggling on the sand. What rushed through the child’s mind as he engaged such immensity with his forming brain and language of a few dozen words?
big wet cold bath
tickle kisses me all over
giant daddy
swings me up
but old grands hold my hands
About the Author
For years Dave Chandler has enjoyed reading poetry based on Japanese models. Since his recent retirement from managing social service and economic development programs, he has made writing poetry an avocation. His writing travels with him and his wife, Mary, between the Pilsen neighborhood of Chicago and the Driftless region of Wisconsin.