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Updated: Mar 27, 2021

Along the trail,

A brook and he,

There he be,

Surprising me,

By yon tree.

You knew he,

Miles behind him,

Had traveled here

From way aways far,

Perhaps along his way,

Having logged in every path

And star.

I asked him for

A story,

A tale perhaps of he.

I asked him to share a bit,

Of life’s journey,

With me.

He told story,

After story, after story,

And then more,

Nary one it seemed,

I’d not heard afore;

Then like that, It dawned!

As he began his stories,

Even more;

I swear that I had heard them,

I swear I’d heard before.

For he told how he had come,

By hookery

And crook,

He told me of his journey,

To sit this

Babbling brook.

Story after story

Turned fire-lit night

To dawn,

My heart beat fast,

Alas, I now knew;

The storyteller feller,

“Was You!”

Yes! Yes, by God

I knew, I knew,

I knew, I knew, I knew!

Cause that Storyteller


You see,

Was my Daddy,

“He was you.”

Many miles behind

Me now.

As I trek along my way,

My Storyteller, Feller

You see,

Made me smile

Each day.

A warm embrace,

Face to time-worn face,

My tear appeared,

So dear,

To once more hear,

Your voice,

And a story, more,

Or two.

“I tell stories too,

Just like you!”

We had trekked along,

Some miles in life,

Together, here and there,

Him and me,

Missing him so dear,

And him so missing me;

He had come back

To trek with me

In my latter year -

As I had trekked with he,

For years and years and year.

He’s come back,

Thank God,

You see,

To see me,

Be with me,

Once again,

To trek along beside me,

Toward my story’s end.

twt, /15/2019©️

Author’s Note: This is somewhat of a future biography. You see here the bond of parent and child is forever. They did so many things together as they both grew up and old. Dad passed and so did time, albeit all too lonely without each other, but the memories kept them together in the spirit. There is foreboding, hints early on in the poem of what moment this is. Where will you meet your journey’s end and who might be there? Will you be doing what you love to do at journey’s end? A double negative belays the truth. He appears by “hookery or crook” from where? Did it take some finagling on the other side, from the Boss? Did he hike along a “pathway,” a trail, in the “stars,” in the heavens? Is he a vision, a ghost, a figment of imagination born out of the strength of emotion - or the energy generated by transition? Is it Teilhard de Chardin’s “Sixth Sense,” perhaps real in the moment? Perhaps life and life after life intersect? The narrator actually “talks to him.” There is so much to say. But they have eternity to share. They “hug.” It is real? Of course. Old, older now too was “she” (I did not identify her in the poem, so any reader could define the narrator, but this poem was inspired by a recent camping trip with my daughter, and I know exactly where that meeting takes place), and her daddy came back to be with her, to trek with her, much older now, on her way away. Lifelong, you hold the spirit of those you love. Did she too pass away, that day? Is there life after? Wouldn’t it be nice if there were, and it melded with life before, on such occasions. Is there a heaven to trek?

Why do I write of such grief? Because the grief now is part of the happiness then.

The Old Storyteller Feller, from “Poetry on my Mind” by Tom Tenbrunsel, p88

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Nov 24, 2020

Poetry written in the future often appears in the present.


Nov 24, 2020

You took the photo in 2067😎


Who took this photo and where were you?

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