One man's habit....Greece, circa 1925..

"...not sayin' what's right for one man 

works for 'nother..
.just that church is not my thing..

..never has been".. he exclaimed, 
always smiling and jubilant..   

92 years old, grasping the iron bed frame
 to steady himself ..one crooked white-haired
 leg into the pants...after the other   

... a good face scrub,  careful razor shave..

cologne..he tucks in the silky shirttail.
sits to polish tired old shoes,  

knobby hands pull mended socks up

He combs his white mustache with the

 small brush on the bedside table..

...dons his best attire, 
 worn black suit jacket and tie..

Gallantly, he escorts her out the door

..down the dirt pathway; 
 they part ways..same ritual 
every week for 50 years.
..she heads to church, for gossip mostly..
..he treads the dirt road.....opposite direction...
... a mile or so...his podium, 
a rangy olive tree..

...cane supporting him, he 

falls slightly, ending in a stooped hunch 

...finding his knees..

Sunday morning brings a soft rainbow

o'er the plaid olive fields.. 

..double fists clenched together

.. he surveys the land
his grandfather quit-claimed long ago...

....head raised, eyes up,
.. he utters words of forgiveness for daily sins

then makes his appeal.. 
"now I've been meanin' to talk with you 

Lord, 'bout the current state of affairs...

what ye have planned for me? 

 Won't be long before
..we'll meet face to face, as you well know"

Confirming his abiding faith

appropriately soft spoken, he then
bellows loudly..standing tenuously..
 "Seems to me, things have gotten a bit......
ah.. out of hand down here!?"

Tears well up under his eyelids

posture straightens as he thinks 
of his country in turmoil

Warmed by the sun where he stood,

he said, "I know to find you here,

 not in any darn church, no siree"

"....come ev'ry Sunday

 this is where I be!" 
 Believed since a young man
that God deserved all his respect
even sharing his sweet desserts 

"Wouldn't a' made it this far..no senor..
...without your ear....obeyin'
 the Golden Rule.. and countin' my blessin's..
 I'm telling you like it is

.. as sure.as that old mockingbird and
 these hills are my witness...

...  for as long as the harmonica plays
... and the sun does shine!!"

by klr