There's no mistaking the signature on the art.
Tom, it appears, was the moving force behind this work, a collaboration with Alan, who is one of his uncles, and with Grandma Brimm, who was being honored on this particular Mother's Day weekend.
When the poem, "Memories," presented itself to me, this photograph of their Saturday afternoon efforts seemed the obvious choice to accompany it.
Here are memories in the making ... the vulture, the butterfly, the crouching creature (a lizard) ... and, of course, the signature.
We have stored up so many similar memories. We look forward to slipping them out to savor them later, at a time when they will taste the sweetest to us.
And we hope that when TOM is ten times seven he will savor them, too ... that he will discover the sweetness of memories from that weekend when he honored his mother, Kathy, and one of his grandmothers, too ... and delighted them both with his art.
(Tom, by the way, is still pursuing his interest in art)
And now the poem:
Resting, I search
of my mind
for warm memories,
and those I find
have grown sweeter
than I ever
dreamed they could.
(originally published in Capper's)
Today's word: honeycomb