Prowess

I have a poem for you, Dad,
If I can squeeze it from my heart
Where I’ve stored desert outings
And rooftop comet gazing
And a few spectacular spats.
We are fierce, you and I,
When we know thorny things.
But hindsight always reveals
The wonder of your knowing:
In the survival uses of cacti
And the unseen truths of spirit,
Extracting ointments and salves
From soft spaces between spikes,
Rubbing leaves in your fingers
To release calming scents,
Calling on heaven’s starry aid
With humble, sure voice—
Your collection of wisdom
That gives you healing powers.