Greeting all of those Crousers, Wheelers, Hoopers, other family, and church folk would seem exhausting.
There was no fatigue.
The next day, Billy found himself drawn to another group.
To another face or two.
“Hey, Billy,” said the brother in monotone.
“Hey,” the response.
“Is this my other flakey son?” asked the woman.
He knew her face.
Their eyes. Their cheekbones.
Billy just nodded.
And there ahead of all the cousins, aunts and uncles
He stood with a smirk firmly attached,
With those father’s eyes twinkling,
And, ever so gruffly,
----------- Lee Harris August, 2011