The phone chimes

Before I answer it, 
I look to see  
if the caller is someone
I know.

The call is identified only
as Olive Hill, Kentucky.
I answer it.
I recognized the woman’s voice.

Before she asks me
if I will judge the poetry contest
sponsored by her
poetry group, 

the words:
I remember the year
that Clayton Delaney died 
ring in my ears.

Of course I will,
I tell her.
We talk about writing,
hers and mine, briefly.

I think about words
& how poets look for truth
& I hear a familiar voice:

It’s faster horses,
younger women,
Older whiskey,

and more money…