My Favorite Brother

One sad day, some years ago, 
I got news that my father passed away. 
He lived a long and happy life,
so I felt joy and sadness on that day.

Perusing a box of photographs and things,
his drawing, a poignant feeling, would evoke.
In his childhood crayons, it was beautiful - 
a tree that seemed to be an oak. 

Between a person's years of birth and death,
there's only a hyphen left to show,
but, in my father's unexceptional life,  
he left something more - I know.

My brothers and I, quite frankly, 
I would not celebrate. 
Many fathers before and after him, 
by having offspring, regenerate. 

Yet, when I was a boy of nine,
My dad would, my brothers and me, provoke,
by planting in our front yard football field,
a native sapling, a California oak.

That tree is now my favorite brother, 
huge, but kind and strong,
hosting an entire ecosystem, 
with squirrels, and birds, in song. 

In their short life upon this earth
many want to build a legacy.
Here is my advice for them and those.
On a sunny day, go plant a tree.

fathertreerhyme

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