The warm days

It's the end of spring break, but I'm not complaining. The weather is in the 90s and there's only six more weeks of the semester left.

During these warm days, I've been thinking about my grandfather, Adrien Comeau. He was a true outdoorsman, and I mostly visited him (and my grandmother) during the summer months when his garden was in full bloom.

I've started a poetry workshop with a couple of friends. We meet every other week. For the upcoming meeting, I wrote a poem about Adrien (aka Poppy).

I wish I had a picture of Poppy in the garden.
I've settled for this one because he's holding me. Also pictured are
my mother, grandmother and sisters. (cerca 1986)

The Gardener

He had strong shoulders of a younger man

And dirt imprinted on his hands

Weathered the seasons and sameness,

Saying, Tomorrow, she’s gonna be a better day

Perhaps something he learned in the lumber camps

Or on the small farm where he was born

Perhaps something he learned from the ups and downs

Of the many women my grandmother tells me he used to date

Before he married her, built their house

And started the garden

Part wild strawberry, part bleeding heart

And always the tender shoots

That would grow tall, abundant

Enough to feed children and grandchildren

He will always be in the sun, in my mind

With an aluminum pan tucked under his arm

Reaching up the bean stalks

And plunking the pods — purple, speckled and deep green

Into the pot that’s already boiling