Bio Note: I am an attorney in private practice in New York City. My wife and I have raised two daughters, four cats, two dogs, and various other domesticated creatures over the past three decades. I formerly blogged at Patheos and now write reflections and poetry at The Catholic Conspiracy. One of my poems was published in Bards Annual 2019 and another recently selected for publication in an another anthology to be published in several months: Nassau County Voices in Verse.
Sounds From Spring
If the sky were painted with sound and not odd colors, it would be cool jazz today. That woodpecker drumming among the branches would instead be swaying, and not even sure why. If that fly buzzing past me were instead equipped with a pen, he would first draw a bullseye on my head, long before his wings could warn me that he was near, but would he still be content?
“Can you count them all?” her father asked as they walked among the shells that were scattered everywhere on the sand, she high atop his shoulders. At six, she already knew well her father’s proclivity for mischief. It was one that she tried hard to match. So they started counting off together. First by the ones and then, after a time, by the tens, the twenties, the hundreds. If you’re going to pretend anyway, he told her, why not be ridiculous? The stunning practicality of that advice has become clearer over the years. But today, she carefully counts out the various little pills that she’ll need to make it through another day. Practical, too, in its own way. And climbing back atop his shoulders, she finally feels safe enough to pretend again. Alone.
©2020 Thomas Zampino
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