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His Dry Bones

Father visits
Complaining his bones are dry
And although I long to succor him
All I can offer is cheese and pine nuts
Still in their shells.
I wonder what his visitation signals
What father is telling
Or asking of me
What the message from my unconscious is
Why the Great Spirit has chosen to be thus manifest
I listen carefully
Through the opened windows
On an unusually warm and silent summer night
When the moon is obscured
And the leaves are still
But all I can hear
Is a rumbling in my gut
And the occasional croak
Of a solitary frog
Longing to be kissed