Sheltering Wall

I walk in the office. His back is

to me, concentrated on the

new computer he has just

mastered. Checking the

market, no doubt, or cursing

another idiot politician. Absorbed

in some stock or mutual fund, 

he does not look like the

sheltering wall of old. The stony 

break, a simple rustic, he

stood ready till we were could 

stand and see the fields on our 

own, stretched before us. Stood

ready to take us back if a

rough wind blew in or a storm

rolled through. Sheltering wall,

he turns to see me enter his

office. He lowers the paper, 

takes me in as if we have 

never met. Then a smile emerges.

Without saying hello, he tells 

me, “Go get Peter, and we’ll 

grab something for lunch.”