Thursday, June 11, 2015


The movement of the trees
giving a sudden warning
But still I sit on my perch
Watching the storm come in
Feeling every part of my body move
yet the sum of me stays rooted.
A brew of clouds swirls
the world changes.
The leaf moves the direction it is told
but the trunk unmoving
anchored to the ground.
A clutter of veins
clenched to the soil.


I never knew much about my Grandfather's job.  I knew he was a police officer.  A Sergeant on the Chicago Police Force.  When he came ho...