Rung of Sons

 Rungs of Sons 

john clare

you were never one

to dwell upon the lower

rungs

from a child 

dangerously climbing

toward to sky above

and in a fathers love

letting you climb

always with a ready arm

in case you fell

and so you loved 

to dwell far above

in the heavens

looking at the deer

bear and turkey

passing below

poised silently with

your handmade bow

chirped arrow pulled

taut eye focused

and then the string 

would relax and the

sight window would

rest upon an Indo

wave and you would

descend to skim over

the surface of a long

breaking hollow outrunning

the men in the grey suits

locked in

truck keys lost resting

in a tidal pool

fashioning stick and cord

to make a beach fire

blowing the embers to life

thinking of Hawaii's epic breaks

Guaranteed 

that on your bended knee

was no way to be free

lifting up that blazing fire cupped,

you asked silently

that all your destinations would

accept the one's that's you

so you could breathe

and so i let you climb

to the upper rung

just do not my son

forget a father holding

a steady arm below.