my mother lived up
to her name: she
didn't question trade
her pagan name,
her illustrious mind,
dazzling, she was,
to the best of them
my father, although
more of a gardener,
did his best to oblige
in Australia, he took to
translating, transliterating
old, rustic sayings,
sprinkled them throughout
his annual reports
to Board of Directors,
was sought after
as a speaker
of quaint, almost
mystical dimensions,
his Dutch proverbs, like
arrows, pointing to certainties,
predictable, home grown truths
That's beautiful. Both their spirits are in you.
ReplyDeleteyes, beautiful Jeltje
ReplyDeletethanks! centuries of trade in the North Sea.... not just Friesians, of course!
ReplyDeleteI really liked this poem! There's a grace and groundedness in the way it's expressed. Thank you Jeltje!
ReplyDeletethanks, Chris!
ReplyDelete