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
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