For Joe (Josef) Parko
The log where my dad perched as a bluebird
in the full sun
was carried by water’s flow
to tree shade.
In its split center,
it has collected
pine needles
and dirt and twigs
from the summer torrents
that have rushed through.
There are wild sunflowers growing around
it. It is cool
there in the shade and
I can see how it is both
falling apart
and coming together.


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