Father to Father

 Father to Father

I heard him before I saw him.
Turning, he waddled to me slowly
as if burdened by his own heartache,
and mournfully gave another honk,
sad and low.

At my fee he sat,
and stared up at me.
Was he after bread?
Answers?
The voice of a friend?
I could only offer one.
I knelt down,
showing my hands,
free of blood,
empty of bread.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Sad and slow.

He bowed his head briefly,
as if in understanding,
or perhaps his own sorrow.
I took my hat off 
and bowed my own in return.
A prayer to Juno
that he and his mate,
wherever she may be,
make it through
this heartache and pain,
whispered.
Sad and slow.

Two fathers,
one in mourning,
the other in sympathy,
sitting together
in a broken and unforgiving world,
sad and low.

© Jeremy L. Heath, 2026. All rights reserved