Dailies 6/25/17: fathers, Dorothy after Oz, & the passing of time

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Avid Romtvedt – Sunday Morning Early

My daughter and I paddle red kayaks
across the lake. Pulling hard,
we slip easily through the water.

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Lindsey Royce – The Fatherly Season

From a distance, I watch my father raking,
belt bent beneath the weight of his gut,
wingtips he hits me with matting tracks in damp
grass, trip-spring mouth cursing twigs that snare

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William Wenthe – Endings

The low waves of Kansas plains
roll to the border of the farmyard
where Dorothy stands. The land arrives
to meet her eyes: timothy and coneflower;

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T.S. Eliot – Song

If space and time, as sages say,
Are things which cannot be,
The fly that lives a single day
Has lived as long as we.

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