If the river don’t rise

I’ll come on down the mountain.

Show up with all the grit

born into my bones

From a life of bologna sandwiches

angry men

and the kindness of neighbors.

I know how to show up.

I tried my hand at Granny’s potato salad for you.

If only you could see me when you accept it.

I never understood someone who can take

without the desire to return.

Light in the eyes or warmth in your hands

if you could find it.

Your lonely cup is always full.

But if the river don’t rise I’ll

set myself aside as I’ve done so many times

to see you.