Antechambers
My father’s residence was memories
As if a chambered nautilus turned back
To find in older shapes a lustrous ease
As snug in paradox, as neat in tack
As any yacht that sails against the wind.
He found his comfort in a smaller place
When he, an adult creature, fully finned
For swimming in the present, turned his face
Away because he sought for some more true
Desideratum than today can give.
He sought a smaller realm of purply blue
Encased in lambent pearl where he could live,
Where he could find a silk-like tent, though brief,
Where he could mesmerize or flee from grief.
Dear Phillip,
thanks for sharing this sonnet with me. But I guess I just do not know what to make of it when it comes to our Father Woodrow. He found solace in the bee hard and in talking about Royal Jelley.
Yours,
Woody
I did not know you had sent this reply until now. Sorry. Yes, he found solace in the bee yard and in RJ. Of course. My thought was that he also found solace in recalling memories from much earlier in his life.