Our Basket Of Familiar Wicker Poem by Joe Bisicchia

And like a sailor, he lifts the blinds. In the distance, no matter how far he is in that VA nursing home, he sees us out here somewhere as we glide. Your elderly father sees you and me, our hearts as one woven kite on the porch swing just as night seems to nudge the sun aside. He knows we are falling in love.

After all, all our footprints in sand and snow and cinder and everywhere we go, we go two by two by love but look at how the world blends so small. He knows. Widowers may have a way of seeing all the power in believing, as somewhere way out there is yet a heavenly mother near her child.

He may remember his younger sky, and her beautiful eyes, and likely can see them still when you laugh and when you cry. And for this you should drop a line, for not too long ago he lifted you as that child, and you reached upward.





Published by The Bookends Review,2017