Sunday
January 1, 2017
Herrin, Illinois
I have a friend who sketches and paints lovely pictures.
I can paint pictures too, but only with words.
I saw one this morning on the way to church.
I think it deserves painting (writing).
Pogo Sticks and Boots
I’m driving east on Stotlar still in town.
On the north side of the street in the back yard
of a house on the corner are a couple of kids.
The boy’s the younger, maybe four or five.
The girl’s a little older, your guess is as good as mine.
He’s on a pogo stick. Jumping up and down, bouncing back and forth on the sidewalk.
Pretty happy with himself, I’d say, as he’s smiling a lot, not much talk.
She’s prancing about in the dead grass with knee high fur wrapped boots for snow.
A dancing model of a pretty and happy girl, all dressed up with dreams to go.
And up on the top step, standing at the back door, there’s a Dad.
Watching them both, hands in his pockets, obviously solemnly glad.
Now here’s the thing. It’s Jan 1, 2017 and we live in a world that is dependent on and possibly totally dominated by technology.
But the little guy is bouncing. The little girl is prancing.
And Dad does not have a cigarette or a piece of handheld tech anywhere about him.
January 2016 © Doris Grant Frey
