A Tribute to my Father

What My Father Planted


He was a short man,
but there was a certain way he stood;
his silhouette strong and familiar
like a steeple in times of worry.

It was a determined stance,
glance to sun, hand shading frown,
tongue moisture over dry lips.
He timed breaths by till of hard soil.

If he chanced to catch me watching,
he was quick to harvest a smile.
We’ll be okay when it rains.
God watches over farmers and fools.

He was a short man,
but there was a certain way he stood,
tall and strong like a church steeple
towering toward heaven.


Shirley Alexander
2011