Tagged: dad

dad and his ruby-

dad and his ruby-
throated hummingbirds have an
age-old exchange – quid

pro quo – the language of love,
the language for survival
.
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every other week,

every other week,
wandering petunias show
up in our lawn, try

to blend in before dad arrives
with his spade, escorts them out
.
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mama and daddy

mama and daddy
met on the intersection
of apples and pears,

and the rest is delicious
history – baked, sauced, freshly peeled
.
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after all these years,

after all these years,
mom and dad still perfects every
recipe with love

and unwavering patience –
two stomachs are better than one
.
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the white azaleas

the white azaleas
dad planted at the side of
our house wave so long,

so long when we back out of the
driveway from winter to fall
.
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even in helping us

even in helping us
pick out new chairs
for our first dining
table, dad doles
out words of
wisdom, eyeing
ones with backs
supported by
a spine that reaches
like a tree downward,
rooted and firmly
grounded,
so that we can
sit up straighter,
remembering
our own roots
.
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we rode down city

we rode down city
streets in dad’s scooter, not old
enough to be scared,

yet confident enough to place
our trust in dad to keep us safe
.
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daddy saved the best

daddy saved the best
for last – an exoskeleton
of a cicada

long shed and waiting to be
shared between fearless explorers
.
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every september, our

every september, our
backyard becomes
an olympic
gymnasium, with dad
as the umpire, overseeing
guest and resident
hummingbirds
as they whip the air
to compete for the last
of the nectar, filling
up for the long
migration south
.
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y

mom and dad rescue