Blessed and Beaming
My wife said write a poem about
what being a dad is like
so I said “Love to hon, I’m down!”
Now here I am ready to write.
It’s like the stars and songs and shores
that bring our minds to peace
knew just what they were doing when
they brought such gifts to me.
It’s like grand, admiral stars elite
sent word straight through the ranks
to shower down six, precious feet
so I could tell God thanks
each day, in ways that are discrete
but also in your face,
like 'THANK YOU GOD for showing me
your mercy, kindness and grace!”
It’s like when ice cream cones rain down
on summer afternoons
or when you see a happy clown
who smiles and leaves a balloon
while all the sky fills up with sound
that satisfies the moon...
at noon!
It’s not like poems can tell I 'spose
(as even poets are fully aware.)
But you try telling my wife 'Heck No’
and see how well you fair.
Besides, I love our bugs, and so
it worked out fine. K, there.
