"Nothing great in the world has ever been accomplished without passion."
--Hebbel
All can be Reflected
Take my fathers rhymes
Add my mother’s gifts,
Give it to me, fresh
As home baked bread, strong
As an oak tree. Stiff
As carded wool.
My time, aging and moving
Carrying bits of memory;
When trolleys sparked
And asphalt was agitating.
Bend my days and cure
My soul
Let me lean into it.
Lend me clues, a green leaf
Into tomorrows yellow.
A cracked chestnut
A caressed nipple.
Take a son’s conversation
That leaves a line
Hung with wet laundry.
A missing button on a sun dress
Revealing. The crow on the wire
Waiting. Life in domino zags.
A sticker bush of yesterdays
Rose full today.
The trees, yellow like
Lamp light before dark.
Cut grass with its smell
Windows that shine an autumn
Orange, reflecting moments
In a harvest moon.
Brothers and sisters
Who rested in father’s lap
Now scramble for familial
Security, yet find no comfort
Without the coarse weave
Of rumpled trousers.
Supple memories pillow dad's funeral closet.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
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