One New One, One old one, April 8, 2013. A poem a day in Apirl, Copyright Doug Stuber

By Dooty Burber

He plays drums,
skates on the pond at
the side of the house,
cooks on a giant
grill with fieldstone chimney, and

eats unusual
items like
home-made donuts and
shares all games
from blind man’s bluff to pick-up

sticks. One day
out on the sail boat
maybe even too
too large for the smallest
finger lake, but a strong wind

blew and sunk this ship
so the whole
family fought
white caps and
swam ashore in the storm, not

the only
storm you faced, and still persist
through summer
log splits, house full of
children, long commutes

connection keeps forward thoughts
alive though
both know trials
in each other’s past.



How can a
kid not love a man
who gives out gifts on
his own birthday? He
also read history

a trick my
father uses to
prolong his
hold on earth. Gramp was
also busy, but got to

be a great
golfer, a sport whose
torch skipped to Margot
and Mike. We visited him
in Naples twice a year and

his son got
married at sunset
in his house
so he could attend.
Mr. Stuber, a Cornell

no one ever saw him sad.
He was too
Busy boating with
Doyle, chasing skirts as

men do, toasting life, nudging
children to
do better via
carrot on a stick.

Happy Birthday Gramp!


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