Reverie in the Evening

One sip from the tin cup.

I hear in the quiet timbre of his words
of the loving daughter on whom he
cast his eye…hear
of the teams of big horses
Pat & Mike
Rex & Tex
Mutt & Jeff
On and on and on…

Each memory its’ own reminder that
he is still alive.

Together we read the skies,
an open Irish text
heavy with dust and flies.

Then he tired.

Together we watch the bright,
dancing sun fade…
twilight coming fast across the flat.

A feather drifts slowly

earthward.