Though he taught us to hold our breath
and dive
we will never reach the bottom.
You can see its purity in the creek
that runs through Myrtle's
where we caught brookies with sticks
and grins.
A father’s love is loud--
you can hear it in the laughter
of children running naked through sprinkler rain
and in the Squirrel Nut Zippers
as we high stepped on the fireplace stage.
A father’s love is quiet-
you can feel it early Saturday mornings
on your way to get coffee
before the rest of the world wakes.
It is as strong and callused as the hands
that build tables, frames, a koa .30-06.
The same ones that hold yours as you cross the street
or hand you the lead rope of your first horse.
A father’s love is as tough and precious
as the lessons he teaches.
He is the tree that gives himself to you and the tree
you are so deeply rooted in.
His branches will stretch beyond your life
into your children’s and their children’s lives.
A father’s love is the greatest gift to receive.
Being your child is the greatest gift I have ever known.