Elder Philosopher

My grandfather was a philosopher
the monday morning kind
he contemplated politics
semantics and semitic practices
over coffee and a piece of
bundt or something or other.
once after a glass of wine
he leaned over and shared
with me the only thing I needn't remember
and yet always do.
"space is the next great frontier kid
celestiality shall replace superficiality
and the moon will replace the beach,
the finest coffee can be found up there."
he's crazy of course
but what would one expect of such a man?
We used to sit outside for hours
counting planes:
there were a lot.
He told me once when he was a pilot
in the RAF. Single handedly
he took down the red barron, a man he
called ginger, much to the dismay
of the redfaced barron.
They had been friends once, before
England had separated from the rest of
Europe. My grandfather remembered
watching the coast seep away
a butterfly who landed for a second
and tauntingly fluttered past.
None of this happened of course
but he was my grandfather.
He was at least a hundred and fifty years old
said he'd played both sides of the
civil war, and never lost a battle.
Not as a general, but on the front lines.
He said stonewall jackson swore by him,
well until he slept with jackson's wife
then he had to flee for the hills,
only to sign up with a union force
straight out of the ozarks.
my grandfather was a crazy man.
i never knew him.
he died before i was born.