What a father teaches

 I recently had a poem published by the Texas Poetry Assignment. The poem is entitled "What a father teaches." It is mostly true, told with a little bit of imagining. My father did talk to me of the blue jays and how they cared for me. I was one of their own.  And my father was a shoe man, a salesman almost all his life. Until he started his lawn care business when he retired.  At 90 he still mows a few lawns (mostly for neighbors).  The poem was originally part of my "Blind man" series, but has now found a life of its own.  

A Father's Day poem

This is coming a little late for Father's Day (perhaps), but I wanted to share it because it kind of goes with my Bible reflection as well.  It is what came from that voice in my head that spoke like my father --a man who liked (and still likes) to make things up...
I guess that is where I got it from.

What a father teaches

My father spoke to me

of birds.

Washing dinner dishes

he would talk

of how they cared for me

when I was young.

I remember the sound of his voice

and the water

stirring in the sink.

The ruffle of suds oozing from

his cloth

as he squeezed it out.

Remember that Chinaberry tree?

And all those jays?

He said.

How they cared for you

so high.

Like you were one of their own.

He said.

In the treetops. You loved

peanuts.

Just like a blue jay.

That was the year your mother

left for Tulsa

with that shoe man

she couldn’t stand.

Must have finally tried him on;

liked the fit.

When he was done, we’d sit

on the porch

with his beer and watch the darkness

disappear.

Each year on Father’s Day I rise

early,

take a pocketful of peanuts

to the stump of a tree I never climbed

and spread them

for all to share.

After opening a beer, I sit

motionless, in the shade

listening

for my father’s voice to fill

the air.