"He is well"

Feathers in his hair,

tobacco in his teeth,

a smile on his face;

he’s a strong breed.

Ancient Harvester pickup

– the International kind –

pedals could pierce the floor,

gotta pay them mind.

The flapping tarp in back

hides the what-it-is – it don’t 

make any waves with him 

or who he knows.

And the dog next to him,

panting out into the wind,

smells of bad-things-ate

and what-got-rolled-in.

He doesn’t often dance,

or dress up like a princess,

but there’s a tea party

soiree he can’t miss.

His little girl’s turning eight;

the lights and piñata he has

foretell a night any family’d 

cherish having –

he is well; he is good; he is well, it’s enough.

he is well, it is good – it’s enough.