In the garden tonight
Among the tomatoes and squash,
Chopping in the soft rich soil
At the mallows and burrgrass,
You were with me.

Written words can do that:
After so many decades,
Alive again in my mind,
(Though always in our hearts)
The wayward younger brother.

A family icon in life,
And so too in death,
In faithful service to God,
Selfless service to Others,
And finally in service to Self.

Symbol of the Family core,
Of conversion, immigration,
Of family pride, deserved prosperity,
The thriving survivor of
Great-grandfather's third and fourth wives.

"Are you related . . .?"
The stranger asked, reading my name
On a Teton mountain top.
And my "Yes," was proud,
For I too was in uniform.

This Scout's connection,
His accompanying account
Across scores of years
And generations of volunteers,
Made us more than Neighbors.

And there were more:
For though there were eight,
Your red-blond amiability
Lingers longest in the hearts
Of many Pocatellans.

But that last late step Aside;
Questioned, justified, unpardonable;
It tugs even now at the Roots--
But the Garden flourishes still,
In spite of some mallow and burrgrass.

07/17/2007

Author's Note: On Grandfather's youngest brother; gardening, by the way, is a multi-generational family tradition.

Posted on 07/18/2007
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes