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.
read poetry together
in the troposphere
revised May 29, 2020
My first haibun!