THE LEAVING ROAD – A poem for my new book
Tell me again how my father died.
He smoothed the boy’s matted blond hair
Not wanting to repeat the story.
You know, the fire, last fall, on the farm.
I pulled you out in time, your father
I think he died from the smoke, in his sleep.
He was my brother too, my only brother.
With your ma gone, it’s just me and you.
And the two mules, the mules are good.
They’ll get us to where we’re going.
I didn’t want to stay, raise pigs all my life.
Are you okay with leaving?
The ground around the campfire was warm,
Beyond the small circle, the cold held its grip.
I miss my father, that’s all.
I understand, California will be a fresh start
There’s golden sunshine and rich soil waiting there.
A curtain of rain arrived with the darkness
The flickering orange flames spoke in the wind
The trailing tendrils hissing like dragon’s breath.
At first light, a flock of geese crossed above them
The sun rose slowly along a reef of white clouds.
At Independence we’ll hook up with one of those wagon trains
They’ll be glad to take us on, you being so strong now.
I guess so, I’ve heard it takes a long time, half a year or more.
The boy loaded their belongings onto the mules’ backs.
He drew a map in the soft dirt with a whittled stick
The point leading to a distant spot on the ground.
He recalled a fable, Aesop’s, one he had learned long ago
A dying father, telling his son where to seek a treasure.
The mules chortled and blew a fine mist into the still air.
Under a vaulted sky, the four began walking west, towards Eden.
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Mike
Sounds like s great adventure.