Nothing stays forever 
not in this world 
like granddaddy’s blue tractor 
parked by his crooked fence 

spider webs 
sprawling corners 
of my home windows 

or the goldfinch 
perched on a decomposing 
pine branch 
beside my house— 

even the dead 
bow to worship 
worms and roly-polies. 
By now, the bird 
could be miles away. 

It has taken me so long 
to find the right words 
for granddaddy’s tractor 
humming 
wherever tractors go 
when they’ve stopped 
whispering I love you 
through the work done 
to grow an entire family. 

Somewhere a child 
is learning where 
a strawberry comes from 
how its flesh needs 
our one and only sun.