A Father’s Day Poem (except not really)

(Not just for any Father; I was speaking my Papa’s language.)

This was not to, for, nor about my Dad, and he rarely read poetry. He was a man of few words: truly “the strong, silent type,” a hardworking farmer, and a supportive parent. So he dutifully read one of my poetry brochures (I think this was during a brief family road trip, where he was a captive audience) and told me he really liked this poem.

My perfect parents, long ago in a perfect childhood.

THAT MOMENT

to you I was a

wilted flower bed

full of stones and weeds

I don't want to disappoint you

I'll try to keep myself watered

and tidy and under the sun

but you know what flowers have

to grow in

to reach their

fullest potential

—Julie Ann Baker Brin ©2001, from "Cryptobiosis" not-book