Faithfully, patiently, his black eyes sat between his feet.
His white hair, lightly, very lightly peppered hung over his shirt collar.
oblivious to the passengers who looked them over carefully,
his thumb flicked open his watch to learn the time.
The train slowed as it approached the station; his eyes stood
on all four legs, certain this was the stop; he patted a haunch,
spoke softly, and shortened the leash; his eyes sat back down.
When the train squealed to halt, they rose, and together departed.
Downtown 3 Train
17 October 2011
Along the Graybeard Trail 