self (for Daddy, 27 yrs passing)

pencil, sketchbook

My dad, Edmondo, was strong as the hills and quiet as a lake. He seemed resigned to live the life put upon him and roam his mental slopes, foraging for chestnuts and memories that brought him warmth and a place in the world.
Our squawks and chirps would occasionally penetrate and perhaps irritate his rhythm. But we gave him the opportunity to love in grounded gestures, rather than flighty, flapping sparkles across the water. He was the tide, the ripple and the occasional white-capped rumble.
Though mostly, he was lonely and stoic until the late Spring day he convulsed on the table and burst from within.

11/28/20