…close, reliable friends
in the earth, in the air, in the rock.
– William Stafford (“Father’s Voice”)
Go hear the voices echo
from common ground, watch
metaphors unfold, alone –
and close like petals, day after day
before they die to scatter, ripe seed
for rains, months or years away.
Tom Homer got the credit
each time my father said,
He looks, but just don’t see…
a nod or intonation
after years of repetition
planted in our brains
as a landmark to go by
whether riding fence for wages
or surviving the future – each twisted limb
has something sure to say.
Among them, there are no lies.
Deception and miscalculation, yes –
but all the truth that has endured
our wild imagination is still alive.
drycrikjournal 