Saturday, January 12, 2013

Bronko, on his dad's birthday

Truly—who can attest to one’s dad
and the vagueness of records (foremost
from a dad), do away any ones specious at that.

Question. Where do you come from.
Who claims your youth. Why hie you from 
ways rather wolfpack to hitherto cloisters aloof.

And slyly you smile as I train you? 
You thoroughly soft-mouth the manner 
by which you’ve sallied and sullied our days?

You let us enleash your paltry claim?
We wonder as you do what ever became of
the mastiff, the mother, the sisters and brothers?

We nominate Bronko to fit the new bill!
Born at the heels of a Lincoln-like stride into
all kinds of pride, and troubles to shoot and store!

Adoption is something I well enough know!
And fathers to suit! I promise this, Bronko, on
birthdays like ours, always to honor our heritage haze!

That doggedly knows the manger's space
will nourish anew, sheep shepherd alike we reach
for this grace and—truly we pray—love one another

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