Dad
Nancy L'enz Hogan
She laid her feet up the front porch steps
The house looked noncommittal
gray, with narrow posts to support the porch
neat, clean, Amish-plain
She laid her hand around the brass doorknocker
Her heart should be rapping hard, shouldn't it?
After all these years?
Where was the anger she had felt, and tears,
when he vacated from her childhood
from her birthdays, from her Christmases and
Independence Days? ...
unprotected through summers unkind,
cold winters colder...
He opened the door and she
took in his eyes
and
she laid her head on his shoulder.
