in the morning,
I take the doggies for their neighborhood walk.
As I round the final corner towards home,
kitty corner across the street,
there is a Haitian grandfather,
wirey and wizened,
sitting on his porch,
watching the traffic go by,
or maybe meditating, who am I to know.
I wave first. Always.
He waves back, and smiles.
Then, I know,
it's a good day, already.