In the Barn
All morning it has rained
and now, lunch in our bellies,
the rain still falls, even and sure.
Confined to the barn, with rustle/
purrdle/coo/rustling of pigeons on
the beams, timid light through
gable windows and open door,
drip and run of the eaves against pig-
ruckus, sqeal and snort downstairs,
spring rain and rain.
Gate-making duo we
unstack rough oak gathered from
the drying pile and woods, lay the boards
out, square and cut and square, I
raise my hammer and swing (not quite sure),
bend the nail, pull,
new nail in oak board, oak hard.
My father drives his spike, touched
with beeswax, four strokes, an ease
I will always respect.
Pound-pound-pound-pound swallowed by
spring-half-stacked mow, rain,
cut and square and pound,
Rain hammered spring afternoon, pigeons,
pigs in a fervid chorus.
This is my most recent favorite photo of Dad Steury. Doug plopped Chelsea on his lap and I took this pic. This was on Thanksgiving weekend. Then, Dad was hospitalized last Sunday. They brought him home towards the end of the week. Doug drove up on Thursday morning. Then Doug's two sons and Chelsea and I drove up on Saturday morning.
This brings so many memories of two years ago rushing back to me. We saw Grandma on Thanksgiving day, then headed north to have Thanksgiving with Doug's family. Then, Grandma passed away on December fifth. At least I have a good idea of how Doug feels. I was numb during Christmas. I kept looking around me, watching people celebrate wondering how the world could go on when I had just lost one so dear to me.
Doug has many wonderful traits that came from his dad- how he holds his tongue before he speaks, how he is kind and caring, his beautiful eyes (all of the Steury men have beautiful eyes), caring hands.
We will miss the Steury patriarch.