Susan Pryke Writing and Communiciation Management

If I could claw back time

I would ask for one more hour

To be there

To hold your big hands

To let my face be a calm pool

To steady you when the startling bolt

came crashing, crushing,

down

I would not tell you I loved you

You knew

I would say

You made a difference, Dad

You were not always right, or honest

And sometimes gruff

And sometimes proud

But you could skate

with long strides across black ice,

and pull a child in a sled

for a picnic in the snow

You, with your bear hugs and barrel chest

your mischievous talk

and yarn spinning

I would tell you I remember best

the tree project we did

for my Grade 7 science class

The samples of different wood, cut from our bush

Oak, basswood, poplar, pine

I would tell you I remember still

the lesson you taught me

about how to distinguish a maple tree in winter

by the way its branches are always in pairs

on opposite sides of the stem

And how the ironwood’s sinewy bark

was as strong as leather

At your grave on the hill

the deer approaches

I look carefully

And see your eyes

Susan Pryke

© 2010