Harvest

That same day we hung out with my grandpa for a while.  
He's a widow and has a good mind.  He gets jokes before everyone 
else and his hearing is fine so we know he's fully cognoscente, 
but his body is falling apart.  He has oxygen and moves slowly.  
It is a shame.  He was a carpenter, he built schools and homes, 
but now it is too much of an effort for him to get up off his chair to sleep.  
He still has a garden.  His children tend it and he has wonderful grapes.  
We snacked on them right off the vine, smiling at the fruit that was so 
sweet it turned to raisins.  It was as joy.
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