My Father's Face

In the spring, when all his flowers begin to bloom, I see my father again in his gardens and in his orchard. When I sit on his tractor and mow his pasture, I hear his voice in my ear, whispering just below the rumbling sound of the engine.

I'm excited to have Spring so close, the first blooms are beginning to show. I've so missed him, but now

I see his face again, in each new bloom.