The Good Life

Should I start to count

The fingerprints on my glasses?

The glasses I see through

Or the ones I drink from?

Should I play

A hand of pinochle

With my grandpa,

In the sunroom of his

Manufactured home

In Barefoot Bay,

Thirty years ago?

Once around the neighborhood

On my grandma’s tricycle,

As contentment rises

From each wheel.

A sunny day by the pool,

Playing shuffleboard—

Yeah, that’s the good life!

Wrinkles on My Face

The balance in a rain drop

On a windshield,

While coasting through the country,

Magnifies my wishful thinking

On a starry night

In wintertime.

So, what’re your thoughts

On the Appalachian Trail,

With fallen leaves on an autumn day?

My guesses get shorter

As I pass through the equinox.

My hints get deeper,

As the wrinkles on my face.

Southern Charm – Part 2

Later that same week, on Sunday, Amy and her family headed to church, like they always did. When Amy’s Dad drove their car into the parking lot, there weren’t a lot of cars there, so Amy could see most people as they walked into the church. Amy was shocked to see one particular person getting out of his car. It was the man she saw in her neighborhood on Tuesday morning. He said, “Good morning,” to Amy’s Dad, with a smile. “I’m afraid I gave a scare to your daughter the other day,” he said to Amy’s Dad. “I didn’t get a chance to apologize.”

“My name’s Bradley Coulder,” he said, with an outstretched hand. Amy’s Dad put out his hand and offered a smile. “I’m Darren Green,” he said. “I’m sure it was a misunderstanding,” Mr. Green said, smiling at Bradley, then at Amy. Amy was mortified. How could her Dad so easily accept this guy? She looked down and walked into the church, not looking back. Amy wasn’t going to reject her instincts on this man, even if her Dsd liked him. Amy’s family usually sat towards the front of the sanctuary, in the second or third pew on the right. Amy sat there, refusing to give in to her curiosity about Bradley, who seemed to have taken a seat towards the back of the church.