.
For My Father
like sunshine sweeping through
a summer fog, you slowly swing
your way across the lake and in
descent upon an early morning
slap of wings, you lift from log
to air with south-bound beak,
your silent flight
you are
a great blue heron sitting on
the tendril of a dock at dusk,
standing sleek, stealth-still
with head bent low while watching
for the next big catch to swim
a brushing kiss away from you,
your blade-sharp wait
you leave me
like the pearly light through rainclouds
in an august night, moon-thinned, broken
by the passing cold but subsequently filled
with heavy insight from the upward breath
of birds in migratory flight, northbound
cranes converging on my rooted sky,
a far-flung tapestry so sadly out of reach
posted by name of the rose at 2:15 p.m.
4 Comments:
Oh, my---that great blue heron is a token I know. When my caregiving client and good friend Alfredo passed away on January 5th of this year, that very afternoon a huge great blue flew low past my deck and landed in the field beside the rancho here in the foothills overlooking the ocean.
It was drizzling that day and he looked magnificent in his stance, his colors muted grey and blue. I took several photos of him. He stayed the entire afternoon and left. I've not seen him since.
I just knew it was Alfredo come to say goodbye, to thank me, to wish me well.
There is loss in this poem of yours, a yearning and continuing one that I hope might some day be succored and abridged.
Hugs to you NOTR.
Joseph,
The loss of a friend, the equation
with a Great Blue, his winged passage and respite near to you ... your setting sounds beautiful. And your recollection equally so. Thank you for sharing this experience.
As for me, I see a Great Blue on the same dock almost every night, and always think of him in the spirit of my father come to say goodnight. Perhaps we'll meet again one day, he and I in the next great plain ...
The masterfully executed fluidity of your poems is, I reckon, their primary allure to me.
And then, there's the substance, the meat, of what you write about.
And then there's your wordplay and word usage -- so sophisticated, not stretched. The words belong, and are not mere embellishments.
I'm gushing, I know, but frank nevertheless. ;)
it's hard to know what to say after that ... and now, of course, I will have to try to live up to them.
your comments are appreciated.
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