Willa discovered blueberries today,
her grandmother smashing them
between two fingers for the baby to press
into her soft mouth. Willa drums her palms on the floor
between tastes, meaning, yes!

Such a shame, says her great grandmother, smiling,
with a voice like a puddle in the rain,
She won’t remember this day. The rain
is bright against the window; the tea cools in their cups. Oh,
says Willa’s mother from a chair across the room,
But it makes an impression.

Caroline Kanner is a teacher in California. Her poetry has appeared, or is forthcoming, in DIALOGIST, Peripheries, NECK, and the math textbook Fractal Worlds: Grown, Built, and Imagined.