Pepper Trail presents a touching slice-of-life in this jewel of a poem.
that old instinct of patrol, adapted in our case
to the search for birds, the hawks black
against the winter sky, the scattered handfuls
of sparrows feeding among stalks of weed.
His love was not spoken, but delivered
in ritual and gesture, most particularly
the sharing of chocolate, great irregular
chunks an inch thick, bound in plastic wrap,
an item I saw nowhere but on those mornings.
We would stop beside an empty field, wisps
of snow snaking through the tattered corn
and he would break a piece
between his great teeth
then hand the slab to me.
In the cold van, the chocolate
melted slowly on our tongues,
warm and eloquent. When it was gone,
my father almost smiled, and turned
us back toward home.
***
Editor’s Note: Pepper Trail has published with us before. Read his powerful and unexpected “Big Guy.”
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Photo by Barney Moss /Flickr