Ode To My Granddaughter(fashioned upon Keat’s, “Ode to a Nightingale”)My bones ache and weariness pervades;My qi wanes as it disperses to four winds,Sucked away, gone into vastness of space.It’s time for time’s reckoning; its vortex spins.But you, Dear Granddaughter, dancingThere, singing melodious beats among trees.You, fresh sprung youth, no concept of worry,We watch you, so…