TREE

That tree those branches leafless boughs the whole year through
Balanced strong against the morning sky
Steady
Morning in morning out
As the Sun struggles to light up the Trail
Sending me a message

It’s a backdrop it’s a foreground to something else
Figure-ground concepts on a schoolyard lot
A picture without a frame
Of what I am not sure

But he’s there (yeah, he’s a male)
Mourning in mourning out
Will you be my father I asked him today,
And he said YES!

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, January 2018

1B489701-3A93-4420-9EAB-11345A152980

Well-Grilled Life

Don’t turn the steaks more than once-some of the only advice he ever gave me and why I always think of him when I fire up the grill

Watching a green leaf pushed by a dead brown one across the surface
Of the pool tonight

An early Autumnal sunset of pinkish orange pushed out by purple rains
Sweeps across the quickening sky
As cicadas’ machinistic trumpets announce the darkness cloaking another day

And him there, standing over there, by the grill
Sharing his sage advice:
Turn once, not twice to
Live a well-grilled life.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, September 23, 2017-September 26, 2017.

 

Dad

On entering his writer’s study
As the gargoyles fell off the shadowy sinews of his mind
Like fish scales
One
by
One
by
One

He heard that voice again
From deep in the earth
Beneath the ancient oaks
Amidst the ghosts of the Confederacy

Surrounded by groves
Of freshly peeled tangerines
The juice so sweet
Effusing orange aromas
Like the memories of walking down to Hancock Lake
Smelling the dirt beneath our feet
Sharing sacred family histories

That voice again
Now lucid
Now as luminous as this morning’s monster moon
Echoes out of a makeshift wooden box
So long underneath the earth without a marker
Carry on,
Son,
Carry on

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, January, 2017
Happy Birthday Dad