Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

FATHER

My father is dead
He is the north
Browned withered
His flesh
Is the bark of the twisted jack pine

Tenuous roots cling
Ancient granite shoulders
Kissed by black water
Running deep and eternal cold

Westerly trade winds
Bending east
All that reaches
Above he forest roof

Friend to the muskellunge
Catching the beaver’s gaze
Ear to the loon
Silent as the moose

White caps break your bow
Refreshing drops cool your face
Looking up to cerulean skies
Carried on skyward bellows
Great muscular clouds roll
By dreary eyes

Land of Manitou
Give grace and ease
This passed fishermans’ spirit
My father is yours

kurt, this should be side by side with paintings and permanently located on a wall for deserving public eyes to enjoy.