Father’s Day Gifts
My father grabs an umbrella
and races out the door:
a gesture as spontaneous
as the sudden squall.
Down his long driveway,
pelting rain darkening his shirt,
to reach a woman dog-walking,
defenceless against the downpour.
He hands her the closed umbrella
then returns to the house, drenched.
Water drips down his face, off his arms,
as he goes upstairs to dry and change.
I present him with a store-bought gift
but its significance has washed away.
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