Brotherly Love


The Nice Thing About Strangers


It’s such an early shuttle to the airport. Two brothers wear green plaid shirts, grey sandals, black cargo pants in larger and smaller sizes, respectively. Groggy as they board, their mother directs them to a set of seats and takes the free place next to me, across the aisle from the boys. She glances over at them before her head droops back and her eyes close.

The boys are so tired. The older leans against the window. The younger tilts his face upward and closes his eyes. Yet his lashes flutter and his face scrunches in concentration, as though trying to will himself to sleep. The lane changes from the driver–as well as a few sudden tests of the brakes–keep the boys from settling in.

The older brother is frustrated and rubbing his eyes, when the smaller boy pats his own knee. Older brother lies down with his head across his…

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About Jonathan Caswell

Mr. Caswell has been composing poetry at least since High School. He has been on WORD PRESS for ten years and contributes to two other blogs beside this one. This blog has a Christian emphasis but all bloggers are welcome. Mr. Caswell chooses to---with permission--re[post material of interest

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