Stocky and solidly built
The wide brimmed hat shading
His weathered face from the mid-day sun
A man of 86
Not one to mince words
Requesting one last ride before he kicks off
“I was practically born on one of these”
A longing in his eyes
He recounts distant memories
A log cabin in the Western Nevada mountains
An uncle raising horses
In the saddle now,
He guides the horse around the corral
A mischievous grin spreading across his face
Pour your emotion onto the floor.
When you no longer look with forlorn eyes
you will see hope.
Low tide renders towering conifers and the rocky shoreline
as an oil painting on the still water
Crabs scuttle over rust colored seaweed
that pops in the morning sun
The news was too much to bear
She sobbed freely inside
the open window of the brick tenement
The old man beside her,
his emotionless face creased
and browned from the sun,
stared at his smoldering cigarette
The sounds of life’s ceaseless rhythm
swirled around them
Half a red pepper lay on the sill
