Saturday, February 14, 2015

The Old Blue Truck

The Old Blue Truck

An old blue truck
Rusts in the field
a reminder, a remainder 
a quiet testiment to my father’s life

His hands worked the land
Coaxing sustenance from stubborn seeds, soil, salvage
but nothing remains save love
No sign that he passed this way writ in earth

But the truck
The Truck
The Truck
Remains yet a solitary sign.
The purr of her engine on good days
His string of curses on bad.
Sounds still reverberating in the cosmos

I should recycle her
The neighbors would cheer
But the Truck
The Truck
The Truck
The solitary string 
That binds my father to me 
in this tenuous place called life.

-wdk 2014

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