Seated next to each other in the third
pew from the front, the aging couple wear
clean but worn clothing, maybe their best; he with
thin, wispy silver hair, she with lots of white hair bunned
on top, with stray tendrils around her neck; he bent with age, a
folded walker in easy reach, she making sure he’s okay now and then
honoring their God at a Monday evening gospel meeting with a small town church.
TR
Leaving a convalescent home and driving
slowly down the empty street on a hot
Sunday afternoon, I approached
the wide, deserted, small-town main
street, and an extraordinary sight
pranced from my left to my right, like a
sweet daydream, of a miniature pony
proudly pulling a driver and a special
wagon made into a white pumpkin cage carrying four
little girls waving happily at me; I started
grinning from ear to ear and waved back, suddenly
in touch with fun people I’ll never know except
at just this one special moment
TR
Prose Me 