Before leaving Florida on Monday, I stopped in for a visit with my father, whose home is just a few miles away from mine. Each time I see him, I’m struck by his frailness, the way life seems to be leaking out of him. At 85, he’s a two time cancer survivor plagued with a bevy of ailments – Parkinson’s Disease, diverticulitis, carpal tunnel syndrome, lumbar spondylolysis. It’s a wonder he’s still standing, not to mention working three days a week at the local Walmart. So with that visit still fresh in my mind, when I read this poem a few minutes ago at my friend Lilian Nattel’s new blog dedicated to Canadian literature, I knew I had to pilfer it directly for today’s Poetry Thursday.
Taking It In
by Rhea Tregebov
I call to ask you about property taxes
and you tell me about the light.
Every time I call, my prudent
father, you tell me about the light,
the way it comes in through the window
and moves over the floor, over
the kitchen table, how it lays hands
on everything. And I listen, and see
you at the kitchen table in Winnipeg,
the crisp blue sky a rectangle
in the window. Oh love.
That gives me a window
like this, a father, light.
I think you are going
like oak, like brandy, like
dark wine. The good stuff
you’re made of taking the light in.
For more about Rhea click here.