Middle Street, Portland, Me 1909 ** for my grandmother **

In 1909, when you’re nine years old, Portland

is a lifetime away when Papa loads

up his wagon for the long trip south,

a rare trip rarely taken from the farm

and she too young to go, her excitement

squashed by a firm hug and a gentle voice

saying, “no,” but amid her tears and the fears

of the slow miles and days ahead of him,

she wonders what he’ll bring her,

new yellow hair-ribbons as he promised,

or the doll she’s dreamed of forever

in the Sears and Roebuck catalog.