churning churlish
under canopy of trees
at the quiet park
summer streets simmer
while temptint rain
the only Dad here
hiding under a sweaty hat
trying not to gawk
at the fit mom
breastfeeding
and the cool dirt
speaks to me
when the girls pile it
to build their castle
we endure all shapes
of absurdities
to give our blood kin
an edge,
grateful we no longer
have to kill for it
the girls
make their quiet father
mud soup
I pretend to sip it
—delicious—
as I wait
to unleash their ambition
upon the world
Interesting to hear a father's view. I am surprised you were the only dad is attendance. Father's are so much more involved these days then when my kids were small.......One more comment on the gravestone photo, I was was going through an old New England graveyard. There was the head stone of a woman who died at 18 years old. The grave stone read "She served her husband well". Wowza !
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