Of Giants and Small Gods

Cleveland Poems: A Suite (3 of 3)

(for BA and Mr. Makee)

On the same day my childhood friend
told me he had cancer, he reminded me
that our 6th grade teacher took him
to a Cub Scout father-son dinner
almost 60 years ago.

“My dad was dead and I thought
that dinner was one more thing
I would miss until my mom called out
‘Your ride is here!’ and another voice –
which I recognized right away –
shouted “Hurry up, we’re late!”
so I threw my uniform on
and flew down the stairs
and I was the envy
of every boy at the dinner;
I’ve never forgotten that.”

And I was reminded
a poet has no duty more sacred
than to sing the praises
of giants and small gods.

Subscribe here to be notified of new posts; there is no cost.

Joseph Neely, all rights reserved