Monday, September 27, 2021

Streaks of Snow
The old man looked into a mirror and thought of years lost--
of the memories wrapped in chains
of a murmuring heart in a jail
The half way house was home
He pulled a donated cap over his eyes--
--the first time in thirty years
He put on a donated overcoat and fitted his hands in gloves--
--the first time in thirty years
The weatherman said tonight expect a Christmas snow
The parole officer wanted him back at 8.
Two hours for him to walk...and maybe sit on a park bench
Maybe for the first time in 30 years he could watch snow fall...
see it cover the hard city ground,
touch it softly on his shoulders,
feel it melt on his open tongue 
7:30pm and still no snow
His legs were tired 
He gave himself twenty minutes to walk back to the house
8pm and he was safe...
He closed the door and signed in,
and walked a flight of stairs to his room
He looked in the mirror, his cheeks were red...
with a quick wrist he removed his cap,
took off his coat
hung them neatly in the closet...they might inspect
He looked out his window and lifted his eyes...
for the first time in thirty years he saw streaks of snow and heard a female voice sing to him from far away
That was the story of his night...half a life and miles of distant snow
 


1 comment:

Brother Ollie said...

Love this - I think we are looking at the same things.

Hey poetry is medicine for the human condition.


Thanks for kind words of encouragement.