the deepening ground

Fathers, like children, are one of those common treasures often overlooked. Though the poem that follows has no direct relation to Father’s Day proper, I share it as a reminder (mostly to myself) to slow down and savor the common treasures of life like time with your children wading in the waters of the creek, or hanging a tire swing, caddying a round of disc golf, or falling asleep on the couch while attempting to finish a movie with your son after a long day. The real treasures in life are found in relationships, and in this poem, the pop bottle is what links the speaker to his sons and to his history and community.

Fathers, you are loved; you are NEEDED. Don’t let the worries and cares of this life distract you from the common treasures freely found within your four walls and four square miles around your home.

Common Treasures

By Vincent H. Anastasi 2023

They've begun the seasonal transformation of Wolf Creek.
My youngest sons descend the stone steps we fashioned
and wade, ankle deep, into the cool waters of Spring,
shovels on shoulders, young laborers
whose joy is to build dams, move stones, and dig holes.
They carve new courses for the obliging stream
until storms wreck trees and debris along the banks
and the rushing waters stumble over our rocky obstructions.

They unearth treasures, secrets of the creek,
like the thick blue-glass Pop Works bottle
etched by decades of silt and stone
made more rough in nature's tumbler
until, hidden from view, like fossils, they disappeared
beneath the weight of years and the steady current of time.

I'm intoxicated by its rare vintage,
drinking in the translucent glow,
the embossed block letters,
the refreshing imperfections.
Some likely-long-forgotten soul drank its original contents
or Wolf Creek carried them away,
having patiently worked off the cap.

However, this shell, sitting on my corner table,
aglow in the light of a late May afternoon
sings from its uncapped mouth
no lips nor cork can stop:
songs of sand, soda ash, and limestone,
of furnaces and factories,
its long journey to my table a common tale
and mystery!

Enchanted, I'm drawn back to those waters,
content to waste the waning hours
in the familiar flow,
amazed, like my sons, with every common treasure
until wonder unstops my mouth
and I overflow with song!