Why Do the Willows Weep?
Audio version by Jerry Wright Charlie Goodman sat on his porch in the morning pretty much as he had every morning for the past fourteen or fifteen years since his retirement at the age of sixty-five. He had been a farmer. Most young kids hardly knew what that meant anymore when he told them stories at the downtown diner. He shook his head and laughed realizing the kids of this new age were different and listened to loud music and watched television. He leaned back in his rocking chair with a toothpick the size of a pencil sticking out of his mouth and bobbing up and down as he chewed on its remains. The morning was the coolest part of day now that July was midway into its fury and this was Charlie’s time to get out of the house. Small beads of sweat were already welling up and his face and forehead as the morning heat rose steadily and as the sun crept slowly higher and higher. Eventually they trickled down and fell into his eyes stinging them like one of those large bumble bees in the
