Under the Bough

Under the Bough

I found posted
A flyer on a wall
“Summer Program”
Mr. Johnson said, “Why not?
This might be good for you.”
Two weeks passed
Then Carl Munger
A towering man, a minister, and an educator
His confidence, his smile, the twinkle in his eye
Sealed the deal.

A promise made to father on his deathbed
 His sister and her husband, my benefactors
Drove us up San Marcus Pass
Mother sat silently giving me anxious glances
While I looked out the window into the distance
The Pass meandered through the hills
Lord’s Candles giving way to hayfields and Valley Oaks
Right turn on Figueroa Mountain Road, down a gravel driveway
To a dusty stop next to a large cast iron dinner bell
Under the bough of a towering oak