An Old Man Walks Up A Road
The questions began when his daughter became pregnant. He had initially welcomed the symmetry of such an event; his child having a child, life continuing to be replenished. In one of his poems he likened the motion to that of a needle, diving through fabric, in and out, weaving one soul to the next.
His son-in-law began to take photographs, snapping his young wife with an egg for a belly, standing her against their barn, the fence, in the trees. Alan did not tire of this project and even put an album together; just a cheap, plastic wallet picked up in town.
Sonia asked the questions of her father for the first time when she was about six months gone. The old man sat next to her on her porch, drinking a sympathetic lemonade, watching the horses canter in the fi
