Will

He never once mentioned the pressure of his blood or his Mam I found dead on the floor his Dad’s cancer or his younger brother not once, during the best years of my life he fixed cars with a pipe slowly smoking a magician with gauges and valves he drank small amounts of beer most nights talked of governments, jays, woodpeckers and herbs and fishing he once caught a 200lb conger he threw it back, no big deal walked his dog over a hundred years old until she died too he never once mentioned it, but we noticed the angle of the briar the bedraggled churchwarden the butter in the beans that one extra potato the few extra pounds but not once ever did he bring up our grumbles our impoliteness or our dirty shoes through fleeting visits he just smiled, understood us like Buddha he gave without receipts or IOUs would it have mattered if we’d found the tablets in his drawer or deciphered the consultant’s scrawl papered vaguely on the wooden table? he wasn’t expecting guests, I guess and then one random Sunday, memories of mountains and meadows and fox cubs and bullfrogs, warm summers and the scent of tobacco went out from 'Sawing Fallen Logs For Ladybird Houses' 2011 http://amzn.to/seDv8w