For my dad

 My dad is awesome. First off, he’s generous-with his time, his money, and his heart. He’s constantly putting me to shame-and inspiring me-by being the most persistently considerate and thoughtful person I know. My dad is everything a man should be-supportive, and faithful, and strong. He’s a dreamer and a realist and he’s patient when it counts.

Sure, he’s got his flaws, but I have never met someone as wholeheartedly good as my dad.(That’s why he’s the best.)

 

Desert Rose

Years ago, my father

procured a jewel imported from a distant land-

one of dunes and crawling shrubs.

He anticipated its arrival with restless hands

and a gleam in his eye.

 

When it came, packaged neatly into a box on a truck,

he placed it gingerly among the other residents

of a table-top oasis he’d created (without really meaning to).

There it basked in sunlight it hadn’t seen for weeks,

incomplete limbs stretching upward, like a lopsided crown

gilded by only a few sparse leaves.

To my father it was a treasure,

though it would seem to anyone else

unremarkable.

 

Until this summer,

years later,

the desert rose sensed its incubation was complete

and emerged bright and early one Sunday morning

to present its humble beauty to the sky-

just as my father always knew it would

someday.