Thursday, March 01, 2018

THE FIRST OF MARCH.

The First of March

Snow falls on the first of March.
It was warm yesterday, but seasons change
Temporarily and sometimes change back.
It is coming down hard.  The snow is white
And large and flakes all look alike. 
An old man is strolling through his garden,
Looking at all his vegetables turn into nothing
More than piles of garbage that return to
The earth.  The seasons vary in different parts of
The world, as if they know nothing of stability.
Sure they know of change.  Sure they know how
To make a grand entrance with rolling black or gray
Clouds and fierce winds that rip through your skin
Like a knife and are bitterly cold. 
The time is ripe for staying inside.  For having
Cocoa around a hot fire.  The fire is hypnotizing. 
There is a homeless man on Fifth Avenue that
Waits for a place to stay, wearing long jeans
And a winter coat.  He lost his boots last week.
Sometimes he gets visits from his mother or
His grandchildren, but they purposely stay away
And do not offer any money or any help.
It is the sad reality of life.  There is hardly any
Help besides a few dollars here and there;
And a drunken dog who follows him around
Looking for bits of food.  A lot of dogs are
Homeless, he thinks, trying to console himself
About it.  He pictures himself in a warm house.


No comments: