O, Father, I feel you - Steve Fowler

Larry Robinson lrobpoet at sonic.net
Sat Apr 27 22:32:03 PDT 2024


O, Father, I feel you
At my shoulder, as always,
Watching everything I do and think
And dream,
With what I can only describe
As mild interest—mild as in gentle,
Mild as in never favoring good or ill,
Never frowning, never blinking,
With interest of the sort that we
All have for the nerves in our body,
Each sending back a unique report
Of the view from its point
In the universe.

You are at the other end of my nerve.
You are my audience; I try to please you,
By noticing as much as possible, feeling
As much as possible—
Nudging the fallen limb aside to see
What is living under it,
Or gazing at the tops of trees.

There can be no deceit between us,
But you reveal so little of yourself.
I tell you jokes that no one else could understand,
I do pratfalls after tripping over
My sprawling fate—
But you make no sound, no gesture.
Father, like the sky, you blanket my days,
As I move here on mother's breast
Ever wakened by you, ever drawn upwards.

      - Steve Fowler

      (Jan 26, 1940-April 11, 2024)






"Be joyful though you have considered all the facts."
    - Wendell Berry
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