February 8, 2012 § Leave a comment
Uneasily, he searched in vain for some sort of joke to tell,
Gave up, sat down, and felt himself sink into
The generous gap in the seat of his chosen chair.
With no explanation, the weathered patriarch
Perched beside him like an ancient kestrel
And began crackling a map ostentatiously,
Then waved his gnarly hand over the iron pot.
He thought he understood the old man’s gesture.
Unnerved, he sank more heavily into the coarse fabric of the seat cushion
While seven pairs of blue eyes stared at him expectantly.