Seen from the back as
they walk along the dusty summer road, with
the sheep straying onto the verges where
a tuft of more succulent grass may linger
in the earlier shadow of
the noontime sun, under the low stone wall,
it’s difficult to see whether
the couple walking with the
gentle pace of conversation, are
son and father, or his grandfather; the man
seems older than the young fathers
around here. But from the front, when
you see their eyes, there’s no mistake –
they’re father (or stepfather?)    and son all right, talking
with such attention, such respect
for one another.
They walk into the village, silently greeted, greeting,
with the gentle nodded glance of villagers
about their various tasks; and open up
the wooden door of the cool and tidy carpenters’
workshop open to the sunny air, where
a young mother gazes at the boy with
all the love in the world. It’s
in His eyes too.