Imagine my surprise to see
a familiar friend in the Ozarks.
Though thirty years had passed,
her soft color, her sweeping lines, her lovely frame,
as compelling as when first we met,
in another gallery,
two thousand miles away.
I've kept her picture on my wall
without a reason to believe
we'd ever meet again.
Yet there she was--the progeny
of painter Mary Cassatt--
my familiar friend
named "Summertime."
It was my own dad's birthday.
His first after his last.
Seeing "Summertime" caused me to pause,
to contemplate three spans of ten.
So many things have changed!
And I wondered, when next we meet.
Where and when and who I'll be.
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