for my father
The wind is in rare form tonight – all in –
The pine and the walnut are sent adrift
In darkness to wave-break the night, an ocean
Of sighs that have slashed autumn’s lines and left
The summer unmoored – grief enough, father,
To see in the porch light your fading shade
That time when the talk sat with ease. Whether
The hour of that someplace translated your staid
And passing years – whiskey conversed, earnest
As lyrics, the crisscross of legacy
That made my manhood. Then you taught, honest
As wages, how jib sails are cut to see
A weather gauge measure a typhoon sea
And signal words speak a level ballast.
Beautiful.
Ditto.
Yep – especially earnest/honest/ballast. Some of the others I’ll have to sit with for a while.
An experiment at any rate:
-‘–”-”-
-‘–”-‘-‘
(Inspired by reading bunches of Ovid lately – both in Latin and translation – Peter Green is quite good, by the way.)
Thanks for reading!