Katherine meets Jim Johnson in the choir loft.
His river-deep voice joins hers singing,
“His Eye Is on the Sparrow.” After services they talk,
then more at church suppers and a picnic,
where he tells her about his past. I fixed navy planes
to make sure pilots were safe in the sky.
Then I signed on for the war in Korea.
I got to see a lot of the world,
but now I’m ready to stay in one place.
I’m glad for a good job at the post office and joined
the army reserves. But tell me about your work.
They stroll to a field where friends play baseball.
Watching someone swing a bat,
the ball rising and curving back down,
Katherine explains how she’s trying to figure out
how a spacecraft might soar past the atmosphere.
Before long she invites Jim to join her family at suppers.
He doesn’t tell jokes the way the girls’ father had,
but they appreciate his tender attention to their tastes
in music and meals. Just as he was content to repair planes
rather than fly them, he wants to fit in here: watching,
listening, seeing what’s needed but not pushing change.
Sometimes Jim meets Katherine at work,
bringing sandwiches they share on the steps,
watching the moon rise.
He says, I’m a lucky guy to find a beautiful, smart woman
and three girls as great as their mother.
We’re set in our ways, she says, but smiles.
Good ways. I’d be honored to be part of them.
From his pocket, he pulls a ring
she doesn’t hesitate to slip on.