Today, my father's face is full
of shadows, his age showing
like cracks in the sidewalk
we walk along now, talking
about next year and the move
south. I don't want to leave
Ohio, its constant gray, the way
it makes me feel a little sad
most days. How overhead, like
my father's worry in each line of his brow,
the clouds gather around the edges
of the dull sky.
