My father was deaf,

We never talked that much.

My father was strong,

I never argued much.

His eyes were steady, his reach was long,

I never ventured far.

His rule was the rule,

I never dared questioned that,

when I got rebellious, he kicked my butt.

When I asked him a question, he would ask me more.

My father confused me,

He challenged me,

He at times neglected me.

I remember fondly, as a child, running along water soaked logs, searching for speckled trout.

My fathers warnings as I ventured forth.

He fell between the logs.

His legs rest upon one log his head on another.

In shock I returned to his side,

he looked up at me, and like the Buddha he laughed.

This use to be my way of life upon these logs, Johnny!

Perhaps I have lost my footing?

At the time I thought I had the upper hand.

My father beneath me, my hand out reached to retrieve him.

I pulled him up, so proud I did save him.

It was many tears and many years later I realized his fall was to save me!