Father
You love what’s not there.
What’s not there is
what’s there to love–
a lawn half mowed
abandoned to the afternoon,
the pale abrupt
of the short cut rows
ending in lushness.
That’s the future of absence.
An upswell.
Upswell is your favorite metaphor.
A wave. A birthday. A mountainside
one year after a fire.
Blossoming lupine. Devil’s claw.
All that tallness, that teeming,
that return.
***
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Photo by Eduardo Fonseca Arraes /Flickr