by Richard Jordan

A man is changing a flat tire
& thinking about his wife.
Somewhere he ran over a spike
though he has no recollection.

His daughter cries at his feet.
The man remembers his father
used to warn, I’ll give you something
to cry about, but he can vouch

that never works. The girl simply
doesn’t want to go to school.
He understands. He was never much
for book learning, either. It will be OK,

he tells her. His wife’s last words.
The sun is warming up, bright gold
against otherwise spotless blue.
A breeze blows across the yard

carrying a scent of honeysuckle.
The man is not unhappy changing
the tire. It’s something he can do.
He begins to whistle & the girl joins in.

Later they will drive to get some ice cream,
but they don’t know that yet.

Photo by henry perks on Unsplash