images felt more than remembered
flashes of memories drifting through the dusty corners of the attic of the mind
the hard newly fallen log under us
the smell of fresh sawdust
the thunderous calm of a just silenced chain saw
oily blue exhaust hanging in the air
this man, gentle, old yet strong beside me
loving me like he had such a long line of young boys
not always with words or touch but with time
working beside them, unknowingly molding them
the wagon is loaded, the tractor started
adding its own darker puff of exhaust to that of the chain saw
the ride back
feet stuck through the rear of the buckling seat
his strong back supporting mine – loved, wanted, safe, free
I stand beside another driveway now
the same tractor puffs into view and I see his son with mine
I know what he is feeling and smile
