The Good Life

a place of my youth the old bridge stands there still time flowing like a river The old man stops to rest. Peering into murky water he sees his young face, long lost in the past. He sees a young boy’s hair, shining in the water, and how it curls to the rhythm of the passing eddies. He sees the wonder of discovery still in his young eyes. Through tears he realizes the finality of years gone. Time, flowing like the stream below waits for no one. He thinks of his youth and remembers how he felt that God must have a very important purpose for his life. Surely it must be so—he must be special. He thinks now of how he has spent a lifetime of finding out just how ordinary he is. He thinks of how wonderful “ordinary” really is and how much he has enjoyed just being himself. Life has been good. a tree frog sits on the rail staring a tobacco juice splat