Father Figure by David Spiering

I saw my father standing
outside the bus station

with his life jumbled
and knotted in nylon duffel

bags; I pass him thinking
how he was similar

to the wind flicking rain
from its hands; after

he passes from my sight,
I search for the figurative

father, giving council
unprejudiced by nature

or other concerns,
a father I observe

kneading out his dreams’
kinks, using the skill

of his cunning to graft
them toward fruition.