<html><head><meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"></head><body dir="auto"><div dir="ltr"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">O, Father, I feel you</span><div dir="ltr"><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">At my shoulder, as always,<br>Watching everything I do and think<br>And dream,<br>With what I can only describe<br>As mild interest—mild as in gentle,<br>Mild as in never favoring good or ill,<br>Never frowning, never blinking,<br>With interest of the sort that we<br>All have for the nerves in our body,<br>Each sending back a unique report<br>Of the view from its point<br>In the universe.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">You are at the other end of my nerve.<br>You are my audience; I try to please you,<br>By noticing as much as possible, feeling<br>As much as possible—<br>Nudging the fallen limb aside to see<br>What is living under it,<br>Or gazing at the tops of trees.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">There can be no deceit between us,<br>But you reveal so little of yourself.<br>I tell you jokes that no one else could understand,<br>I do pratfalls after tripping over<br>My sprawling fate—<br>But you make no sound, no gesture.<br>Father, like the sky, you blanket my days,<br>As I move here on mother's breast<br>Ever wakened by you, ever drawn upwards.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"> - Steve Fowler</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"> (Jan 26, 1940-April 11, 2024)</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></p><div dir="ltr"><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>"Be joyful though you have considered all the facts."<div> - Wendell Berry</div></div></div></div></body></html>