Virginia isn't Wyoming

These wooden planks smell
Like my grandmother's cabin did
In the valley where a
Glacier carved the Teton Valley
Eons ago.

The smell is like sap
Still runs down the
Cheap unvarnished boards
On a slow sloping way
To quiet snow.

Virginia isn't Wyoming though.
Grandmother isn't up
Long before I am, halfway
Done with her crossword
And preparing pancakes
And eggs and frozen sausage
And whatever other fancies
I replied when she cooed,

"What else would you like?"

She didn't call me honey,
She was the sweet one.
Nothing puzzling about her but
The crosswords she unraveled every
Fresh morning.

Grandma is gone now.
Her cabin is not her cabin anymore,
My nippy stuffed nose only
Confuses states sometimes.
It doesn't take long to remember
Virginia isn't Wyoming,
Virginia isn't when Wyoming was.