And Wait to Watch the Water Clear

In the hospital room where my

Mom lies in a hopeless coma,
I sense my dad’s presence,

Can just about hear his rocker creak,

Smell the pipe tobacco she’d told

Him would kill him sooner than later.  

If she could ask about her

Trellis roses coming into bloom,

Ask about her cat Lucy,

Ask when I’ll get a haircut,

I’d tell her three, missing

Her, later than sooner.

Now, my dad recites in my

Head the poem he read at their

Wedding about a trip up

To a pasture spring, about

A calf standing by its mother,
My dad saying, “You come too.”