Since I couldn’t see my dad on Father’s Day, I wrote him a poem.
Ice Cream on a Summer Day
The trees are rustling and sunlight
floats down through the leaves,
painting scattered shadows across the
His legs are long and she pedals
faster to compensate, chattering
away while birds call and tires crunch
on the gravel as they spin, spokes glinting brightly.
At the boat yard, they brake
and lean bikes against a tilted sign post.
Dangling toes in the water, she sits
on the dock and he stands
above her, his shadow blocking the sun
they are more than halfway there.
Resuming their pace, it’s his turn to talk-
she listens and the birds still call
and the tires still crunch.
Braking once more, bikes are left
outside while they go inside to order.
Back outside, he has black cherry and
she has maple nut, and both are
creamy and melting.
Too soon bowls are empty and then
feet are propped up,
the silence is content.