Grandfather and child (most free, sorry all)

From the freedom of summers long past lived.
Through the longing window of time
It is the light from a child my dreams do go.
To the place where logic and sequence have no rhyme.
 
While in peaceful slumber in my youth I awake.
The melody of anticipation warms my soul
I rise out of bed and walk to the door
My grandfathers voice carries sure and full.

I see the strength in his work brittle face.
Wrinkles earned by the wind, sleet, and sun.
This man of the earth, sky, and wild
To my fears he is the reassuring one.

Through the day of labor with work worn shovels in hand
Stewards are we with stock to feed, horizon framed fields to grow.
The ear of a child is schooled with lore
Magical stories are painted with endless flow

At days end, the summers sun has set
Under a feathered quilt.... I close my eyes
With a rested mind my a soul at ease,
Priceless treasures his stories are my prize.