Grandmother in Crete.(Poem)

 
GRANDMOTHER IN CRETE 
 
   (1) 
 
   In Hania's public garden where 
   Old men sit out their days, I sense 
   In shadows creeping round my chair 
   My gran about to pounce, as once 
 
   In childhood as I played in our 
   Woodshed, splitting Eve's peach--but with 
   My finger, not an axe--she swooped, 
   And countless times on grandad if 
 
   He'd had a flutter or a few, 
   Descending and wrapping ...