Parents

By Shirley Howard

My father was a carpenter

and stood on sawdust carpets

as he fashioned wood.

He taught us lines

must measure true,

to use three nails

instead of two,

and he had a special rule:

we read before

we started school.

My mother,

on the other hand,

was always-ever in demand,

planning programs,

making floats,

rearranging words and notes,

and she gathered

stars and flowers

to adorn us in our brighter hours.

They were different,

yet the same,

for one designed the picture,

as the other made the frame.