In recognition of Poetry Month, and to celebrate our treasure trove of Orcas Island poets, Orcas Issues is pleased and honored to offer daily poetry during April.
Apple Tree
The last summer he gardened, our father trained an espalier
to sprout wings along the fence where it could catch sunlight
arcing across the horizon. We knew he would leave us
in time. We knew even his voice answering Mom’s phone now—
We’re sorry we missed your call. We’re not home at the moment.
—would no longer startle us. I used to stand
in front of the apples and leaves listening to windchimes
Dad had constructed from spoons and scrap metal, Dad’s voice,
Please leave a message —prompting us, reassuring us— at the tone.
© Jill McCabe Johnson
Published in Iron Horse Literary Review Summer 2011, and reprinted in Fire on her Tongue: an eBook Anthology of Contemporary Women’s Poetry, Two Sylvias Press, 2012.
