By Stephen Phillip Johnson
They come, in shifts— through side entrances, private doors…. most
wearing comfortable, expensive shoes, color-matched pants and tops
squeezing-in last minute family talk, world business…. on cell phones.
Somewhere in this sanctum cube (say, Room 416), a bed-bound soul alerts
to the Change, hopefulness warming; the One with the soft touch is near!
Stephen Phillip Johnson is a Mountain Home carpenter. Writing is his itch. Within the halls of medicine, where he’s been (repeatedly) healed, reside flocks of muses.