My mother was <br />a being born of <br />miracles, of monsters, <br />magic, mayhem <br />and mystery. <br /> <br /> <br />She once described <br />a winter fig: <br />'That tree is a <br />spaceship from Pluto.' <br /> <br /> <br />My father, son of <br />calm reason and <br />clear chill logic, <br />twisted his head. <br /> <br /> <br />'No.' <br /> <br /> <br />There was always <br />finality whenever he said <br />his favorite word. <br /> <br /> <br />He then clucked his tongue, <br />a seemingly innocuous habit <br />which nonetheless conveyed <br />an unrelenting disapproval <br />of the entire world. <br /> <br /> <br />'That tree looks like rain, ' said he, <br />sadness dropping his voice.<br /><br />David Kowalczyk<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/winter-fig/
