Father’s Day

Father’s in the air
today, inflight
snared in the long haul
between squared-off dinners
dreams his own father up
in flight, too, at this moment
skeining already
the wild nothing
on his impossible way north
in the great wherever
a dash and swab of flame
there in the rail lines
in their hands and mine
in the arc of descent, woodash
on the world’s eyeline

then we’ll take that dust, boxed
I suppose
port the metal detector
Da packed
call together cousins, siblings
amble together the old line
to Kibblesworth
hone out Roman coin and beer
rusted habits, carriage bolts
mix ash and coal to powder
between us, blow ninety-five years
into the hedgerow green nettle
onto beat of boots marching
that tuneless whistle
faithful as routine

~ be there with you soon, Da ~