The Pace of Things

Swift things are beautiful: A dog along the surf, A growing child (all too) Springtime, in its budding and flowering And sudden storms, And childhood (did I say childhood?), And a year in my life these years. Slow things are beautiful: Sunday mornings Long morning walks, Eventual happiness and self-acceptance, The way that the heart…

Shotgun

Pat had a VW. Tim had a cool, red, ’57 Chevy convertible. McGee had a corvette. Thom, a flaming orange ’57 Chevy. I had a choice between my mother’s pink ’57 Olds or my Dad’s black ‘60 Cadillac. So I mostly rode with friends. Now the Caddy was sweet in its way. It had those…