Seated together – my established white hair and his restless 40 years.
We were bound for Phoenix, home for me, a plane change for him.
He had a lot to say, many questions. He was excited about airplanes, hamburgers, a vacation. His sister would meet him in Yuma, his mother saw him off in Vancouver.
An airline escort checked on him.
What food do you like? I had barbecue last night. Do you like barbecue? I like pork chops too. Do you like . . .
I produced a book of poetry as an escape, he ordered more coffee and five sugar packets.
He asked what I was reading. I read aloud a poem by Emily Dickinson.
We should think about these words, I say.
We offered feelings about the few stanzas; we listened; we talked.
As we concluded he rubbed his hands together and announced,
That was fun! Let’s do another one.

different wavelengths
read poetry together
in the troposphere

Jean Luce
revised May 29, 2020
My first haibun!

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