He sat at the table alone.
A cup of steaming coffee in his hand.
His sleeves pushed up to his elbows.
The thick white blonde hair on his arms
like moving water over stone,
shiny alive with its own
look of going somewhere fast.
A contradiction to his statue pose.
The thinker - with a frown.
Our second son, born under an earth sign. He followed his brother to the big city and is still there. This was from one of my visits to see him when he was just beginning to 'Chef'. Man, can this kid cook. His brother had moved to Ashland to finish college down there.