I Know, But Tell Me Again

for Gabriel Mark Hasselbach

how the cicadas in grandfather oaks
took full voice at four in the afternoon
when the day reached boiling point

how the brothers burned down
the pump shed hiding
their oil rag wick on the 4th of July

how the winters painted sadness
in white-gray frost
across sleeping rice fields

how hounds rounding a coon
echoed through the woods
like a beautiful death

how she cried every night
for five years after his death
but always dreamed sweet dreams of youth

how, when you left,
you never knew
you would want to return

how, when you finally found time,
returning was only possible
in memory and music

tell me father
tell me again

Thanks, Barbara.

Yes, just wrote it this morning.

tp

Thanks, Dan.

tp