It's Still Life

Home and Hearth

Blood is thicker than water; I’ve never
had any trouble telling them apart.

Really, it’s a small thing,
Dad would say with a modest
… pfffft
a never-you-mind about
that snarling scar on his arm.

I think it was the year
that the Russians put
the first woman in space.
That’s when the old
Yew tree fell in the gales.

Dad took a handsaw to it,
snagged each piece with
a hooked bar, and chunk
by unwilling chunk, dragged
them to the woodshed.

Then he started chopping,
and splitting kindling —
and that’s when the axehead
flew right off the handle.
Such a bloody mess.

But come summertime,
Dad was like a peacock
when his arms tanned deep
bronze, and that snarling
scar stayed lightning-white.

Always look on the bright side,
that’s what my dad would say.

for Sunday Whirl #341. This weeks words are arms, apart…