We Children

When we were middle-aged children

(Our father had died young),

We lay on Grandfather's grass

(Mostly weeds cut back)

And watched for shooting stars,

Not guessing we were born right

For the best starry shower of the century:

Not much pollution then either

And no cloud cover in all of Anson County;

But knowing how fortunate we were

Puts the icing on the cake

After the last crumb is eaten.

My God, how we smacked our lips!

[Written by Virginia McKinnon Mann in December, 1993.]



[Photo via San Diego Air & Space Museum Archives.]