Set a spell
The cabin hid behind its sagging wooden
porch. Only gradually did one realize the frayed clothing in the
battered folding chair held a man. The jeans were patched and
re-patched, the shirt might have been yellow once, the hair and beard
were white, the face was lined and dark. Behind the cabin the land
fell away. The front of the structure already shadowed, the valley
behind was drowned in light. The old man might've been staring at a
young visitor standing in front of his home.
The Colonel cleared his throat, unused
for so long. "Johnny? Is that you? City treating you well?"
Silence.
There might've been a time ... but no,
there was no one. The fading sound of a car going down the
little-used dirt road, a brief pause to the bird song and rustling in
the dry leaves. The house was empty as it had ever been; on the
porch a gray rag and a couple of broken sticks were heavily carpeted
with dust.
Publ. Daily Cabal 2009
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