the deepening ground

Father’s Day 2024 found me back in Wolf Creek after a wonderful meal with my family hosted by my son and daughter-in-law. What a wonderful slow day! The gift of summer. Although I went upstairs after my three-hour sojourn in the stream to write the final song of my constellation series (Aries has been quite the challenge), I found myself meditating on the image of my twelve-year-old son kneeling perfectly still in the creek trying to catch the larger minnows. He told me he covered his palms in sand with only his fingertips showing, hoping an inquisitive fish would venture close enough to catch. He’d already caught twelve of the smallest minnows as seen in the photo above.

It was not to be. But that moment inspired what follows, a belated celebration of Father’s Day.

Father’s Day 2024

By Vincent H. Anastasi 2024

My son has "come into the peace of wild things"
kneeling in the creek,
hands cupped as if in prayer,
patiently waiting for the minnows'
ever bolder explorations,
transfixed by the mystery of tiny things
that live and move and have their being
in an alien atmosphere,
these underwater sparks,
scaled bodies flashing fire
in sunlit waters of a Sunday afternoon.

I have exhausted myself
clearing the brush
tangled in the trunk and branches
of the fallen tree,
steering the broken larger limbs downstream,
rolling them up the farther bank
as far as possible with my son's help.
We have constructed islands,
connected by stone bridges,
and repaired the dams
while crayfish darted about our ankles.

Now my body aches
that healthy ache of exertion
and I slowly gather the tools,
ascend the rock steps,
and turn once more to the creek.
I do not rush my son from the waters.
I am mesmerized by his stillness,
his quiet adoration,
and I, too, kneel
and cup my hands in praise.