wisps of poems
             circle around my brain
                     nothing settles
snatches of color
            enter the shining of words
i long for the special closeness of my father's spirit
                gentle counseling found in a silent look
what would 'pappy'do with poem pieces?
he would gaze at them like  dark, red roses
                     trim   fading leaves
    shape tender petals
                     look upon them with flower love
what would 'my dad' do with poem phrases?
he would instinctively touch them
                like ripening beefsteak tomatoes
remove unnecessary    insects
                          wait until the right moment
what would 'my father' do with aching hearts
he would water and fertilize them
                        lullaby them under the waning moon
                                     knowing they're eternal treasures