Cement

A lovely and reassuring thought. But, let’s pick on something other than cement
and concrete next time, Ok? [Monique’s comment on “Lessons Learned Looking Down”
available below]

A long time since we used to ride, all three,
The two of you out to Loretto bound
And I to work thereafter. On the way,
No radio in the Bug, we’d make its sound
And often sang a favorite melody
The music, words, still in my memory:

Barges, I would like to go with you,
I would like to sail the ocean blue…

We little dreamt or then suspected that years—
A decade or more full of adventure
Later—barges would still bring joy or tears,
For cement had then become the venture,
Your work and means to earn your daily keep,
In furtherance whereof barges must ply,
If ice did not obstruct the river’s sweep,
From docks in New Orleans up to the nearby
Ports in St. Paul and Minneapolis.

Oh, Red Rock—and the water down there green
And shaded—later on the new Grey Stone
In Cincinnati’s construction-rich marine
Environment, a monument, capstone
Of your achievement, your work in cement!
No wonder word went round that Dominique
A man, from Europe, of Spanish descent
Had taken over at Red Rock. Monique
They met—in awe at that—only later
At trade-show time and noted feminine
Charms and traits, and no mistake, a Daughter
Of Cement, no son, red rock outside, inside jasmine.

For reasons such as these, my daughter dear,
I’d never dare to question or attack
The stuff itself, the trade, or your career.
The picture pleases, The Lady on Horseback
Succeeding in rough games just wearing jeans,
Flying to Spain, to Mexico on trips,
Waiting for barges, weather, ocean ships...
That grey stuff, dear? It’s welded to Ghulf genes.