In the Name of

In the Name Of

Amazing, the man, who sleeps not at home,
lends shelter for small kids and frozen sunsets.
It keeps the hot sun off gentle soft heads,
and stores the sad books that we all have read.

That he is a hunter we seem to forget--
wandered the forests that no one has known,
left behind tracks and broken down saplings,
and half-charred firewood doused by the spring.

And no one remembers the chill in the night,
born by the man with the deer in his sight.
Not proud how he found and shot the old deer,
not to count points on the pointed antler.

Arriving, still dawn, with the dad of the fawn,
loved for the meat in the palm of his hands,
the dad who returns from the forests he’s roamed.
the dad who was known to sleep not at home,

the dad, who was known, to sleep, not at home.

the dad,

who was known,
to sleep.

Not at home.