Jerry considers himself a late bloomer, as he only discovered that he could put a few words together to mean something, after he retired. Since then, he has written many poems, some short stories,
and two books. His two books can be seen here: http://notunique.ca/ However, his first book is out of print and he hopes, someday, to get it into an ebook. He was a member of the Canadian Authors Association for a few years. As a hobby, he does magic shows, as indicated by his profile picture. He is interested in spirituality, and he was/is a teacher of outdoor survival techniques.
The train is late.
A few hours ago my wife
Phoned me to say that her father
For nearly nine decades
His body was hardened by the sun –
Working in the lumber camps,
Chopping wood, pounding nails.
The trees knew his name.
He sweated to put bread on the table.
“Save your pennies,
The dollars will look after themselves.”
He would say to his grandchildren.
The train finally arrives.
With my suitcase, I walk
The mile to his home.
Having gathered all day, has left;
While he peacefully rests.
I arrive, alone.
Walk into his bedroom,
Squeeze his big gnarled hand –
He squeezes back.
“Grampa, I am here for Pat,
You are free to go”, I say.
His eyes acknowledge mine, dim,
And he leaves.
I stand silent,
Knowing he had waited for this moment.