Wherever My Father Went

water above, water below

Pointe-Claire, Quebec — Photo by Jonathan Potter ⓒ 2024

The morning clouds came and went,
came and went, and the breezes pink
made mauve-gold dimples where green grass bent.

The night was empty for having spent
its last gold coin on a deep drink
of morning clouds where they went

across the ripples that lent
the surface of the river's ink
these mauve-gold dimples where green grass bent

like the glassy eyes of an old gent
staring out and starting to think
about clouds that came and went,

came and went into the tent
of the day that was on the brink
of mauve-gold dimples where green grass bent.

Wherever my father went,
I can only recall and blink,
it was where the morning clouds were sent,
where mauve-gold dimples and green grass bent.

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