Ode to a Village Elder

Ira was an old gray man from Arizona-

Gray beard, gray breath, gray head.

He lost his wife to a bad fever twelve years ago.

Her name was Nelda.

Nelda had red hair when she was younger.

Later in life her hair was blue.

Ira had retired from the railroad a few years ago,

and in the absence of Nelda,

he'd taken up a lot of hobbies.

Ira was a cheese-maker, bird-breeder, bingo-ball-reader.

But when he wasn't busy, he would just sit out in the garage on 

an old barstool, and hover over his tackle box

organizing his lures, and dreaming of finding a perfect 

fishing hole full of fat trout.