My father can juggle words
as though they were multicolored *****
His hands move, confident and strong
drawing rhythm and structure
from thin air
launching upwards word after word

And those chase one another
in colorful and complex patterns
like dancing hummingbirds
one's beak kisses tail of the other
a necklace made of rhymes
that twirl and loop around and on
composing lines that draw
a verse, a verse, a pause

the wonder that unfolds
in front of my bewildered face
as syllables, vowels and consonants
conjure magic
from null - into existence
creating paintings with no cloth
a symphony sans instruments

and I fill my own lungs with laughter
and joyfully applaud
my eyes are spangled by the stars
that without knowing or trying
day after day
he plucks down from the sky
for me