Older Than Columbus

My dad was born on the day before Columbus Day so the running joke in the family was that he was older than Columbus. Year after year, "The Daddy," an Irish term, was delighted to know how old and sage he was. After he passed away in 1985, I wrote an annual memorial poem. In this one I have included a quote in respect to his mother who was of Apache descent.

IN LOVING MEMORY

"Do not stand at my grave and weep.

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow;

I am the diamond glint on snow."

--Chief Seattle

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Was that you I just heard in the veery's call?

"Patchy frost,"he predicted.

"Circle Columbus Day!"

I listen for you these evenings

near this veery's thicket.

Giddily, he is busy in the piney grove

reminding me of your clattering newsroom,

something politic is always

hot off the presses.

His co-workers gather their copy

the length of the woods and back before

Pegasus touches light, square hooves

to the trail of the night sky.

Do you ever tire of their amazement?

Did you? I remember your joy

at a sketch from the Far Flung Correspondent,

the urgency of your passionate editorials,

and your last words:

"You never know when you're going to

learn something new."

I go into the woods in the twilight chill

to catch the latest,

to return the call.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

...may the blessings of remembering the ancient ways be yours...