Posted on Friday, July 22, 2005 - 4:12 pm:

 
 
Amarillo is one     
of the least pleasant     
places I can think of    
to spend any time    
       walking in August.     
  
Gnats worry any living thing.    
Each molecule of air is saturated     
so that one gulps     
the atmosphere sliding it     
over the tongue and down     
the throat. Sweat is    
a fact of existence.    
  
A trip to Dallas brought    
me to a sidewalk there   
that mimicked the road passing    
old frame houses built on block    
foundations and painted     
pale shades of blue    
green    
  yellow    
      or pink     
each with a large    
sitting porch where residents    
might enjoy an afternoon    
breeze if it happened to rise.    
On one of these    
porches sat Doreen    
white hair braided    
up and pinned     
     blue eyes quick.      
  
"Afternoon."    
  
"Good afternoon!"   
          I replied.    
  
She half-stood moving    
forward on her seat.     
            "Y'et yet?"    
I stopped and smiled.    
            "No ma'am."    
"How long?"    
    
"Two days."    
"Hungry?"    
"Yes, ma'am."    
   
Fried eggs    
bacon    
sliced bread    
gravy and that unique    
sweet tea one finds    
in the South were    
a wayfarers break fast.   
  
A Methodist minister   
she had been    
alone since her husband     
passed. It was her's     
to serve others whom     
the Lord led to her door.     
   
I was grateful to    
have been so led.    
  
A moment's prayer from her    
wrinkled lips and I     
was back on the walk.     
        Belly full.   
Heart adjusted.