There's a photo I can picture
if I close my eyes
taken in August
nineteen seventy
black and white
it's of my mother's father
Ralphie to his wife
my grandmother
Dr. Harlow to some
grandpa to me
I thought that he was dying
and I'd come
from California
to his summer home
on Martha's Vineyard

I took the picture from behind
while he sat silent
as if in prayer or meditation
in his wheelchair
gazing out across the calm Lagoon
toward Vineyard Haven harbor
in the photo
a blur of light
reflecting from the water
surrounds him like a halo
it's as if
he's staring off
into eternity
although from where I stood
I couldn't tell
whether his eyes
were closed or open

I remember that I asked
what he was thinking
and he answered
he was listening to hymns
he'd known from childhood
hymns we'd sung on Sunday evenings
over many summers
family and friends
sitting on couches
or folding chairs
there in the livingroom
while we children all sat
on cushions on the floor
my mother playing
the old upright piano

I wonder
was he hearing those same voices
still reverberating
in the livingroom
just past the door
where he was sitting
in his wheelchair
listening