we sit atop a retaining wall
the kern river below
rippling over rocks

it was a twisty road
and it had made me sick
so Papa had stopped the bus

his voice is low and soft
as he assesses my aches and pains

through the windshield I can see my brother
has shifted
from the passenger to the driver's seat

he is steering the wheel
making jet noises

Magraw our blue tick hound
orbits

sniffing rutting and barking at phantoms
he is protecting us

this scene always lies
at the farthest edge of my galaxy of memories

and I pull at it on moonless  restless nights
when I pray for sleep
and thank God for my charmed and blessed life


© Whit Howland 2019