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Poem: Dear Dad 

Dear Dad,
The way the sun slants
methodically and quietly across the
orange walls of the
old house on the postcard road
Empty as the
way two strangers should shake hands after a
good rain and
My time digging the
riches out of the Earth and
blessing her with new kinds of glories is
the greatest work a
woman can do in her time of
love and need
I
sit in the diner when I am tired and alone and
Marilyn Monroe winks at me from her place
behind the counter and I know
she has a story she cannot tell
I pour more sugar into my cup and
find inspiration and wisdom in the
act
Love,
Your Daughter and Friend

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Speaking of...

  • A poem by Irene Zimmerman.

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