She came upstairs and found him
sitting in the rocker just
looking out the window at a hawk
flying over the yard and
beyond that to the river.

He seemed sad.
She thought of a rhyme...
Eighty two and nothing left to do.

Did he have regrets?
Were they his own or for his son?
Were they because he had no grandchildren?
Were they because his friends kept dying?

Or was it just a peaceful moment after breakfast
and nothing much was wrong?

She knew.
She shared the same life.

It was a beautiful Saturday morning in March
looking down at the Hudson River.

Nothing much was wrong...

[Hear Steve Goodman in your head, singing Mike Smith's The Dutchman. Margaret and Henry Beukema have been together over sixty years. They live on the banks of the Tappan Zee.]


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