A Father's Day Poem

It makes me slightly giddy to think of my dad retiring from retail at the age of 70 and starting his own lawn care business.  Recently --at the age of 87-- he has talked of retiring from his mowing business too.  I think his garden and his porch  are calling...Or maybe it's just the ducks that stop by for bread every morning... Being a Dad involves a lot of responsibility. 

My Father's business was being (a Father's Day poem)

My father sold shoes

for forty seven years

before retiring at 70 

and buying an old truck 

and a couple of lawnmowers 

and now he mows lawns every

 

morning (except Sunday) and comes

home in the afternoon to hose

off the mowers before

 

taking a shower and settling

on his porch with a cooler

and a six pack of Miller Lite.

 

From his chair he can watch

the finches darting

in and out of the shade –splashes

 

of sunlight amongst the leaves,

upon the trellis and along

the porch rail. Sipping 

cold beer, he sighs 

at the world he made

for himself out of almost nothing

but gratitude and quiet 

confidence. And when the warmth 

of evening settles he remembers 

the feel of a woman’s foot

after a day of shopping.

 And reaches into the ice for another beer.

Cooking tofu on the porch in an electric skillet

Sometimes when I am doing a thing that takes me from writing, giving up my "personal time" to do something for another, what I find is that I am still writing. Just not on paper... A saying that is often attributed to St. Francis is this: Preach always; when necessary, use words.  I guess the same goes for writing a poem...  

Cooking tofu on the porch in an electric skillet

 

after marinating it

overnight in a bath

 

of soy sauce, maple

syrup, garlic, chili

 

powder, ginger, and rice

-wine vinegar,

 

I sit here in the damp heat

delicately turning each soft slice

 

ginger and garlic sizzling into the air

trying carefully to singe the edges

 

turning each slice with care

to see that it burns only enough

 

just the way you like

because after 2 weeks of radiation

 

singing the inside of your stomach

with such delicate care

 

it is all you ask for

though the smell

 

of cooking makes you sick

 

When I come inside

plate of browned

 

dominos (we used to call them) still hot

(just the way you like)

 

with delicate care you will

take one and smile

 

(and that will be too much)

And even as you push the plate away

 

you will thank me for them

all

 

 

Here is the RECIPE for the marinade and cooking the tofu... If you are interested in a little vegetarian delight.