for Jody Henry, and
for Maezie
By our college days, having already
lost her husband, showing gray, I’d watch her
graceful moves through the lake house, her steady
gaze of sky-clear eyes; saw how his father
fell in love with her; sensed son’s devotion
to family, those analytical
genes leading him to biology. One
day, somehow, fifty years had passed. We all
gathered to honor her life’s century,
her greeting us one by one. Soon after,
she weakened, left our too constant hurry,
our staggered lives of faith, fear, and laughter.
I recalled her at Mr. Dixon’s wake two
years earlier. I said, “You know, you’re blue
eyes are still beautiful.” She said, “Yours too.”
Roger Armbrust
January 8, 2017
