On Things That Never Change (And Things That Do)

My father and I go on walks,

And today I change my shoes before we leave

But he doesn’t notice,

And I watch moon and feel our strides,

And hear our walking music--our two voices,

Though today there are three sounds: our voices

And the coins he handed me earlier

Singing from my pocket,

And I laugh to myself for a moment

Because sometimes change is quiet,

Sometimes it’s loud,

And other times things don’t change at all.

Revisiting this today after my dad's birthday yesterday and a poetry reading I attended tonight. Dad, you are my favorite thing to write about.