Carol Nelson

Carol Nelson

It was first`light
the instant when
things in the dark
begin to take shape
I saw him out there
among the bean poles
tying up loose vines
an old cap on head
water can in hand
his face at peace
for`ever Papa

He doesn’t lie
under the stone
bearing his name
with entry/exit dates
Oh He was there once
long enough for a blown`
kiss to those he loved
but as they departed
he too came home
with them to tend
the bean`poles

“We know the stories that are told,
by starts and stops, by bent men at strange joy
regarding the precise enactments of their own
gesturing . . .” ~ Michael Anania


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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4 Responses to Memorial

  1. Heartbreakingly beautiful


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