It's said that we stand on the shoulders of giants; <br />Of ancestors ceding to us their genetic heritage, their traits: <br />I feel the truth of it, each time I walk to the garage <br />And stumble again over that pile of ashes; by the tipped over bucket <br />I could almost swear it's great great Grandpa, <br />Caught in the barn fire and burned too badly to keep living; <br />But he'd already passed on his genes. <br /> <br />And next the old well; grows some ivy, thick along the bricks- <br />Great Aunt Florence it must be; escaped from her nearby plot <br />Over by the Lilac bush; <br />Must have been Granny Bennett, planted that purple monstrosity <br />To make herself more at home on the new homestead- <br />Taken there against her better judgment, she felt at the time; <br />Though if she planted flowers, their bulbs are long since wizened away. <br /> <br />And the scraps of her silky embroidery thread <br />Lie scattered over the floor of the shed <br />Where their old belongings were once stored; <br />Rat and moth-eaten because after so many years <br />Nobody could figure out who should have what; <br />And some leftover blackened jars of canned vegetables and fruit <br />From extinct gardens and fruit orchards. <br /> <br />And underneath all that, ancient dust of their shoes <br />And pollen from long ago plants: <br />They, who still repose in their once-fine Sunday best <br />In the little walled-off lot at the back; no doubt happy <br />To be free at last, of the never ending work with the hands; <br />Complacent as forget-me-nots, in snug earthen pots, <br />Probably would be glad they can't see the weeds now.<br /><br />Patti Masterman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/they-say-we-stand-on-the-shoulders-of-giants/
