Eight Thirty or So

---

For Papa Jay on his 88^th Birthday, Labor Day 2023

---

You told me “Eight thirty or so,” but of course, you meant eight,

And I knew you’d been up a long time before then

Because I ran by at dawn

And saw the old hurricane lamp was on in the kitchen

And the storm doors open to keep the AC at rest.

---

You told me you needed a hand, but of course, you meant

You needed me to hold the hoe

With the mud sucking around my rubber boots

And to watch you tug and pull the wet concrete

And slop it “just so” into the crawdad holes.

---

You told me you’d had enough of the garden, but of course,

You planted one anyway this year,

Watering the extra squash I’d promised to take care of

And the tomatoes and bush cucumbers and my zucchini, too

In the syrupy heat of those June mornings.

---

You said you were done for the day, all tuckered out, pooped,

But of course, when I came ’round the pond last night,

You were in your workshop,

A cockeyed silhouette against a pegboard of tools

And not able to sit until the summer sun did,

---

Not until eight thirty or so.

---