Day Adventuring

day adventuring

is driving, moving

to keep moving,

staring at rusted rebar

prodding wrought fingers

out of New Deal concrete

kissed by aquamarine

it is

reigning

over dead end streets

or quiet parks

where ducks wade

out of reach,

feeding sun-touched turtles

for their boldness

adventure is somehow

snatching solitude

like urchins steal bread

and pray

to the hedonist war gods

that we do not hang for it all

A Climbing Rock

A father’s job

is a climbing rock

to be that rough path

that winds to the top

to rule with love 

to tempt the fates

to put muscle on bones

and food on plates

hewn from

ancient tectonic madness

to guide through scrapes

and be a salve for sadness

unending

unbending and deep

to protect, defend

and lull to sleep