Mr. Willoughby

My eyes graze over the land

tall cornfields that kissed the edges of my daddy’s land

and his daddy’s

and his daddy’s before him

Fields that now grace my eyes

pleasing them like colorful pieces of hard candy

salted watermelon

soft orange peaches

berries ripe and tart

sweet things I remember from my childhood

like tall Mr. Willoughby, who reached for the sky and embraced us all at the same time

protected us from storms life brings and ones freely given by nature

swayed from his extended branches

gliding from one to another

him lifting us up as high as we could crawl, his hard exterior scraping our arms and legs, yet we felt no pain

Running through fields with old Walter barking in the night

catching bugs that light our way in the darkness

Sweet cream melting down our hands in the summer heat

sugary

sticky

divine

My withered hands now feel the fragments of the dusty bark

I lean into the embrace

My bare feet rub the stalks of grass

nature’s homemade rug

Feel the sun beat down

essence

dew on my face

All gone now

daddy

momma

brother

Walter

Me full of years

Just me and Mr. Willoughby

quiet company

ancient

memories