A Father’s Day Morning Walk

The morning comes early in June
and I go walking.

First I hear and then I see
a big red-headed woodpecker,
hammering away at a tree
to get his bug breakfast,
and then he swoops away
and begins on a nearby home.

Next is a deer —
edge of the woods, edge of the highway,
beautiful, hesitant, wondering
which direction to go.

Finally, I look in a window,
curtains open to my curiosity
and there sit two kids,
the oldest no more than seven,
in front of the cartoons,
though the little one seems
to have fallen asleep again.

They are covered with a blanket,
and curled into the golden retriever.

I’ve met a great many fathers
walking around the world,
this morning I think of these species —

loud destructive peckers
putting holes in everything
as long as they are fed,
vulnerable ones,
poised for flight or hope,

and very many warm snugglers.

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