By Carol Krauss

scrubs barnacles from the hull. Every Saturday from May to September

he hooks up the book trailer and heads out with his spaniel,

his girlfriend, and her daughter for a day of fishing and exploring

Virginia Beach tributaries, back bays. I watch him fill his cooler,

check the lifejackets, and pull out of his driveway.

Dad would wake us bright and early. Hurry down our dock

and ready the Chris Craft for skiing and exploring Lake Norman

coves, inlets. As a preteen, I spent many hours sitting

beside my Father, soaking up his sun. As I aged, I opted

for sleeping in or lengthy friend chats on the phone rather

than our Saturday ritual.

My father has been gone for three years now. When Todd

climbs up onto the bow of his boat, and waves to me,

I can see my Father waving as he pulls out of the cover.

Telling me goodbye years before he left.

Carol Parris Krauss was honored to be recognized as a Best New Poet by UVA. In 2021, Just a Spit Down the Road, was published by Kelsay. She has work in Louisiana Lit, One Art, Schuylkill Valley Journal, and Susurrus. she has been selected for Ghost City Press’ Micro-Chap Summer Series.