Poem: Day of a Father.

dirty boots,
dried mud on faded jeans
ashy knuckles,
cracks on his left wrist
he snaps the cap off a cold brew
sitting back
on the rocking chair
swinging in his front porch
life’s hard day
rewards with silence
full moon sweeps the sky
shooting stars shooting,
crickets cricking, light-bugs bugging
he drinks a mouth full
as he thinks of youth,
his upbringing,
he thinks of his roots
all that’s been lost,
never to come back
all that is here
and the value of it all
gentle he drops deeper in thought
the days of his father
the embrace of his mother
how quickly
things change, staying the same
years fly by but time goes slow
mind picking apart
the mysteries surrounding life
he hears his ever young sweetheart
call out to him
go wash up, dinner is ready.