August 29, 2013

autumn's door cracks







crossing the firestone lot after work 
i spot a mother trailed by two daughters 
marching single file up burnside, 
the mother relaying a torch of to go coffee
respectfully followed by her red headed daughters, 
each one bearing before them 
a pink box of donuts. i smile,
and notice how the sidewalk has 
recently been sprinkled with 
crispy brown hands, curled 
fingers stiffened in mid-clasp, 
fallen because they have caught 
all the light they could. 
dramatic sky alternates between 
shade & shine as i sit down 
on a bench beneath a tent of trees, 
two tank topped young men, 
pause before the grand elephant, 
one considering the climb 
while the other patiently observes, 
phone hugged to chest, heart 
poised to capture his triumphant ascent 
as a cryptic old friend, hardly looking back, 
barely saying a word, cruises past on his bike, 
as i watch the young man too easily
surrender to the smooth 
flank of this most magnificent elephant 
and saunter away with his friend. burnside 
a glinting funnel of cars. in between 
the trees the clouds thicken, deepening shade. 
i close the book and continue toward home.




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