Happy Fourth of July

Since it is is holiday, this poem was shouting at me (wrote it for my dad right before he died):

Inspired by “Forgetfulness” by Billy Collins

 

“as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor

decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,

to a little fishing village where there are no phones”

 

I don’t think he is fishing.

Instead behind those foggy old hazel eyes

I think he’s running his cows.

He’s afoot, herding them through

The brush and cedar breaks,

Calling them out by names,

“Sophie, hah, Chair (whistle),

Come on girls! Stay together now!”

And when he’s not baling hay or picking beans

He’s got his hunting dogs out

Watching them catch the scent

Of that coon he’s been trying to catch.

 

Yeah,

Every now and then his face manages

A crooked little smile and I see the freedom

His mind finally has now.

He’s not bothered by money or a time clock,

Weather or war.

 

No,

He’s actually in another place,

A farm his dementia has created

Since he can’t be on his own anymore.

There is no rain.

Only sunny days with a cool breeze

Blowing in across the porch

And fields of springtime bluebonnets for as far

As his foggy old hazel eyes can see.