farm kid

he jerked about the hospital bed

like a moth in the bottom of a porch lamp

family had become strangers

pictures on the wall, more strangers

a retirement party, a wedding, a grandchild’s baptism

a paper clipping with his grandchild’s name

and one more picture, another stranger,

somewhat familiar—a boy, floppy ears, narrow face,

bow tie in a one-room schoolhouse

the man in the bed, his eyes

free from worry, looked like those of the kid

for the first time in seventy years