Sangchu of Love

Some chipped paint pieces,
barely holding onto the window frame
and some letting go
to lay on top of each other on the window sill
watching the rest flow down too.

Beyond the window,
I observe my halmoni.
She bends down slowly
while her fragile legs quiver
to the autumn breeze of Gyeonggi-do.
She tugs the white radish
away from the family of soil;
the skin next to her lips droop lower
every time she smiles
reflecting back at her vegetable garden.
My halmoni waddles
closer to the green family.
Her plum colored nails
stands out from the sangchu
she tugs to taste test.
The wrinkles in her cheeks
tense up as her dimples awaken.
She nods her delicate head to herself
with a proud sensation
vibrating back at me as I smile
back at her behind the window frame