A Good Run

He looked out at the river and started to write. Almost 40 years had passed since he published his first and only work of fiction.

Oddly, it didn’t bother him. He’d always been able to rationalize the drought, reminding himself that as John Lennon wrote, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”

Besides, he always ‘knew’ he’d publish another work of fiction. After all, life is chock full of stories. The one thing he couldn’t rationalize away was the passing of time and the finite nature of a man’s life.

A friend said to him when she was being treated for cancer, “If things don’t work out, I’ve had a good run.” That was 15 years ago, and now he finally understood her. Life is about having a good run, however you define it.

For him, only two questions mattered: had he been kind and did he learn. He looked away from the river and smiled to himself as he finished his coffee because however things turned out, whether he published more books or none, he’d had a good run.

Who Knows Why?

A stranger came to my door today and didn’t make a sound.

At least, I didn’t hear him. When I finally took notice, it was too late.

His small frame had already begun to stiffen.

A fly buzzed near as if it knew. There wasn’t a mark on him,

not a feather appeared broken or damaged.

Yesterday he may have been one of those lovely creatures

soaring overhead with purpose, braving wind, heat and rain

and all manner of danger on the ground.

Today, for whatever reason, he had taken his last flight,

which ended on my doorstep. A small thing, some might say.

Who will even know he is gone? But I know, and I honor his passing,

small, beautiful, sentient being who chose my doorstep for who knows why?