Photo of My Father 1928

I like the little boy who was my father.
I like this grainy faded photo of him ten years old
standing at the dusty roadside with his brother,
squinting a challenge in the sun.
Short, broad shouldered, barefoot,
pugnacious and tough with sunbleached hair
suntanned face and suntanned arms against
the rolled up sleeves of his
wrinkled misbuttoned white shirt.