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Grandma took us by our hands And walked us to the wide cornfields Ditches full of water The August stalks high above us: Listen.  I don’t hear anything, Gram. (my words fast and so meaningless) Grandma whapping me on the head: Listen. The stalks bending double In storm-coming breeze:  It is the ocean, my sister says. Yes girl hear the ocean waves Summers you kids is islanders Genie, he Robinson Crusoe Who am I, Gram? I ain’t no boy— Pretty gal, reckon you are Wendy. Who are you, Grandma?
