and one day i thought
i’d like to see the world through my father’s eyes
all roots and vines
and the simple need to create
and the feeling of dirt between your fingers
what does it feel like
to understand how the world works?
not its people, no, more important than that
how the seeds and the buds
and the soil interact
how to make something from nothing
from a small speck enveloped by your hand
i don’t understand
but you do
and we are the same height, but when i look at you
i am looking up
i am looking forward into the horizon
trying to see the sunset like you do
trying to understand the weary way you sit down
and the tired vigor with which you rise early each morning
to begin the cycle again
and i see you standing there, immobile
leaning for a brief moment on the handle of your *****
and i see the world dancing around you
just waiting for the movement of your hands, waiting
for the next order, the next command
the next request, as you begin again
and i try to understand
today, i thought
i'd like to see the world through my father's eyes