Simplicity

I want the poem for Wardie to be sweet,
infused with warm seaweed salt smell
of the north Sound. On the face,
oh how it feels on your face.

With hands of wind
stirring up the water.

With a boat and a motor,
and a fishing pole.
With bait, his pipe.

I want to be a child in the log house,
at the knee, listening to old stories
of ferry captains,
of fishing. Feel family
gather around for a summer meal,
small talk, generous hugs,
days and love that seem
forever.

I want the poem for Wardie
to have Rose in his arms.
I'll leave it at that,

just an old proud man
with his sweetheart
in his arms.






for Wardie