Saturday, April 23, 2011


If my father was alive, he’d know what to do.

He always knew what to say, how to phrase it.

Maybe I’d send my son there for the summer

to spend time with him on his southern farm.

He would’ve taught the boy how to work hard,

to take pride in your work. He would’ve shown

him the importance of rising early in the morning

and not worrying about when it’s quitting time.

Of course tractor driving lessons would take place,

along with how to be strong willed, respectful,

while not to caring what others think about you.

All lessons would be given with a certain firmness,

yet he would’ve caved in now and then, a sparkle

in his eyes, a mild grin, an exhale before speaking.

All signs to let you know it was for your own good.

Only if he were here, he’d make it all look so easy.

1 comment:

Chicago Native said...

I enjoyed this. Reminds me of my summers on my uncle's dairy farm. I was a Chicago city boy who blossomed on that farm, proudly raking hay with the 1951 Farmall at the age of 13 on the Minnesota fields.